The Muggle and The Centaur 2
by Storyseeker
Summary: Rebecca thought that she was finally free of the Forbidden Forest and the Centaurs. She was wrong! Also, whatever happened to Dolores Umbridge? (A direct sequel to my first HP fic. Story is mostly safe, except for near the end. (Warning; final chapters and epilogue will contain harsh scenes.))
1. Prologue

**THIS FIC IS DEDICATED TO THE TREASURED MEMORY**

**OF MY DAD, WHO FELL ASLEEP ON 21/11/12 AFTER**

**LOSING HIS FIGHT WITH LEUKAEMIA.**

**REST IN PEACE, DAD!**

**THANKS FOR EVERYTHING!**

**I ALSO DEDICATE THIS TO ALL THE BRAVE SOULS**

**OUT THERE STILL FIGHTING CANCER!**

**KEEP FIGHTING AND**

**NEVER LOSE HOPE!**

_**Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!**_

**_A lot of what's in my fic will be based on what's seen in the movies, with some references from the books, hence Firenze will not be blonde, but dark and more beastial like, as will the rest of the Centaurs._**

_**This is a direct sequel to my fic 'The Muggle and The Centaur', and set about 5 years after, about a year after the war with Voldemort has ended.**_

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**1996; Forbidden Forest;**

**Centaur Herd: **

Dumbledore then added, turning back to the centaur leader. "Forgive me for asking, but I understand you and your herd have been moving out of your territories lately. May I ask why?"

Magorian snarled. "Ask your precious Ministry! They're the ones who have been robbing us of our lands!"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I won't deny the Ministry has been restricting your lands as of late, Magorian, but…from what I understand, I believe you and your herd were seen out of your territory long before the Ministry even began making the restrictions."

Magorian snorted. "We were not moving out of our borders, Dumbledore! We were searching for someone."

"Oh, may I ask who?"

Magorian's face darkened a little more. "Someone who is ours by right, and will be again. Even if we have to gallop all across the globe to find **her**!"

Dumbledore paused slightly at the centaur leader's last words, but made no sign of acknowledging them. Umbridge, on the other hand, seemed momentarily distracted from her fear and rage, and looked thoughtful.

"I see," he said simply. "Then I wish you luck in your search, Magorian. Farewell, till we meet again." Without another word, he helped Umbridge by half-carrying her out of the herding ground, and started trekking through the forest on their way back to Hogwarts.

He suspected the identity of the person they referred to, but knew that, for the moment, he could do nothing about it, as the war with Voldermort took precedence over everything. Plus, it was doubtful the Centaurs would ever find her, considering how far she was from the forest.

'Doubtful,' he thought, 'but not impossible.'

He could only hope and pray that the centaur's search would forever remain a fruitless one.

'My prayers are with you, Miss Rebecca Leicester.'

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Bane watched, as the elderly human led the stumpy female of his kind away, a sense of indignity burning within him. It wasn't fair! That woman had insulted and belittled his kind, threatened the life of his leader, and they had just handed her back to the humans.

He clenched his fists until he thought they'd rupture. This was the third time that a human had been denied him…

He mentally shook himself, refusing to let the memory resurface. He had spent nearly five decades trying to bury the memory, and wouldn't let it come back to him now.

But, try as he might, although he managed to push most of it into the deepest parts of his mind, where he had kept it hidden for years, he could still see the silhouette of his one most painful memory…the image of _him_.

He stormed away, pushing past several of his brothers, heading toward the forest.

"Brother, where do you go?" Ronan asked him, as he passed.

"HUNTING!" Bane all but screamed. "IS THAT OKAY WITH _YOU_?!"

With that, he belted his brother on the chest, pushing him away, and galloped across the Herding Ground, into the welcoming darkness of the forest.

Ronan merely watched him leave, a sorrowful look in his eyes.

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**Three Years Later;**

**Azkaban Prison:**

She sat in her cell, lightly tapping the stone-wall with her finger, as she waited.

It had been over several months now since the final battle with Voldermort and his Death Eaters. Voldermort had taken his army to Hogwarts, where Harry Potter and his army had engaged them. In the end, Potter had emerged victorious, Voldermort was finally defeated once and for all, and any surviving Death Eaters had fled or were arrested and imprisoned, along with any witches or wizards who had used his rise to power to commit what many considered shameful acts against the people.

That was the reason why she was there in Azkaban.

It seemed an eternity, but only a few moments had passed before her cell-door was unlocked and finally opened. She didn't even bother to look up, already knowing who had entered.

"Hello, Mr. Pierce," she said, greeting the warden of Azkaban.

He stood before her, looking visibly uncomfortable. Despite having taken every precaution to avoid being seen by any of his guards, he knew better than anyone that where magic was concerned, _nothing_ was impossible.

"What do you want?" he said in a low voice, wishing the meeting were over already.

She gazed up sharply at him, her eyes flashing in anger. "That's what do you want, Miss…!"

"It doesn't matter what you call yourself anymore," said Pierce, looking down at her with something like amusement on his face. "In case you hadn't heard, you are no longer part of the Ministry."

She gave him an icy glare that drained any humour from the situation.

"Take care with how you speak to me, Pierce. I may have lost my position, but I'll ensure that you will lose a whole lot more."

He swallowed in unease. He hadn't wanted to come here, but had had no real choice in the matter. He would have come earlier, but there were always guards on duty. It had been a challenge to find an opportunity to visit her without being observed.

"What is it you want?" he asked.

"What do you think? . .Here!"

He stared at her in surprise. "You can't seriously expect me to…"

"I can and I know you will!" she interrupted. "Because if you don't, then that will mean you going back on our deal. _Remember_?!"

The unease within him had suddenly grown.

Donald Pierce had been made Warden of Azkaban after the mass defection of the Dementors to Voldemort's side. He had worked there before then, but only as one of the guards who brought the prisoners' food. His record with dealing with the prisoners had been exemplary, so they had offered him the job.

None knew that the woman before him had been the one to get him the job in the first place.

He had first met her nine years ago…before Harry Potter had returned to the wizarding world, before Voldermort had returned, before the last war, and before she had been arrested and sent to Azkaban.

Although he had first met her then, their families did have some connection to each other. Pierce's father had been a simple gardener who had worked on her family's estate, though Donald had never been there. They had hired him because, apparently, they had been useless with horticulture magic, and didn't want their precious garden wilting. And while his father had worked there, they had sometimes loaned him money.

Unfortunately, Pierce had inherited his father's bad business sense, resulting in him being stone broke more than a few times. The last time had been the worst. He, his wife and kids had practically been in rags, as they had owed the Goblins at Gringotts bundles of Galleons, and faced losing their house.

He had gone to her in the hope that maybe their families' past together might earn him some sympathy, and he could convince her to help him with his financial situation. Unbelievable as it sounded, it had actually seemed to work. But Pierce had soon learned one very important lesson: She did absolutely nothing for free!

She had agreed to help him by giving him the money he needed, but only as a loan, and if he couldn't pay the money back, he would have to work for her. When he had asked her what kind of work that would be, she had simply replied, "Just the odd favour now and then." And to ensure he would keep his promise, she had made him take The Unbreakable Vow with her!

Just the mention of The Unbreakable Vow had been enough to make him want to run out of there, but…he had just been so desperate. But he had told her straight up that if any of her favours involved him harming anyone, then, vow or not, he wouldn't do it.

She had just laughed, claiming that killing wasn't in her nature…something he still had trouble believing. Though it was true she had never killed anyone before, her treatment of people was legendary, her cruelty well known. Still, he had accepted her proposal, made the Vow, which she had arranged with the assistance of an unnamed witch who was also in debt to her, and taken the money. Although he hadn't been able to pay the money back, she had ended up getting him a job working at Azkaban. The work was not the greatest, especially with the Dementors always close by, and the pay was miserable, but it had been better than nothing, and it had all turned out for the best, thanks to his promotion to Warden.

She had written him a fine letter of recommendation, which had gotten him the job; first as a guard, and later as Warden. He thought that working at Azkaban had been the kind of job she had been talking about, but it seemed he had been wrong, though that was hardly a surprise. Since the day he made the Vow, Donald had had wanted nothing more than to keep his distance from her. Her voice had always been overly sweet, but he had forever been on edge, frightened that at any moment she would strike him down. Apparently, that time had now come.

"How…" he stuttered. "How am I supposed to get…?"

"I will tell you," she interrupted. "You need only go to my house. Inside you'll find a number of items my family has gathered over the years. I need you only to fetch me a few of them."

He chewed on his lower lip, and finally sighed. "I'll…do my best."

"Of course you will," she said with a smile. "Just be quick about it!"

He didn't doubt she was finding life here at Azkaban harder than the rest. After living a life knowing nothing but luxury, this had to be a real crash to reality.

"As you wish…" he swallowed, "…Miss Umbridge."

After she told him where to go and what to get, he quickly left, and Dolores went back to tapping her fingernails on the stonewall, never missing a beat. Despite her calm and cool appearance, her thoughts were ablaze with a raging anger that would have even Voldermort quivering in fear.

'Harry Potter…Dumbledore…that filthy mud-blood girl…' What was her name? Green, Graydon, Grangehill…Granger! That was it. She, Potter and that ginger-headed freckle-face with the whiny voice had done this to her!

She was Dolores Umbridge, once the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, once the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, once the Headmistress of Hogwarts, once the Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, and now…now she was nothing! Stripped of all her positions, her reputation, and her freedom. Even her beloved possessions, like her kitten plates, were taken from her, and she was forced to wear these dreadful striped prison uniforms instead of her favourite pink cardigan.

Well, she would show them! She would get her freedom back at least, and then…she would get them all!

And she knew how to do it, too. She remembered something from a point in her life that she preferred to forget. But being locked in this Merlin forsaken prison all day every day left her nothing but her memories to dwell on. However, that was a good thing, as now she remembered something she could use.

Now, she had a plan!

**To Be Continued…**


	2. Chapter 1

_**CHAPTER 1**_

_**Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!**_

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**Four Months Later; **

**July 1999, 0120PM; London: **

Rebecca Leicester chatted happily with her friend Chloe over lunch. She had returned to England yesterday from Italy, where she was now living, to visit her parents and friends. It was her first trip back home in more than two years.

Rebecca had studied Art in Italy, and had ended up moving there permanently, settling in Florence where she worked as an artist. Although her work hadn't gained her international recognisation, she had a real passion for it, and was fairly well known throughout Florence, particularly for her paintings of Centaurs, which many felt she did an original interpretation of, given their more beastial appearance.

Both girls were pretty, similar in appearance, with sunny blonde hair, blue eyes, fit physiques, and each over five and a half feet tall. This had been true since their school days, and time had not changed them much, at least not physically.

Chloe still lived in London, working in her father's company, slowly preparing for the day when she would take over. She now went by the name Mrs Chloe Andrews, wife to James Andrews who was a Business Investor. They had met when he had done some business with their company, and had been married for over six months now.

"How's life with your parents again?" Chloe asked her. "I've been worried, when you told me you were going to stay with them. Your dad still threatening to disinherit you?"

Rebecca laughed. "Oh no, mom and dad are, more or less, cool now with me being an artist. They still say I would have been better off as a doctor, but at least they're not still going on about it."

Her friend paused, holding her tea to her lips and looking at her strangely. "Not at all?"

She shrugged. "Well…except a few times on the holidays."

They giggled.

As they sat drinking their tea, there was a sudden shout from the left of them. When they looked up, they saw a couple of policemen running pass.

"Wonder what's going on?" Chloe wondered aloud.

The man from the next table looked over his shoulder at them. "Might be another one of those damn horses," he said. "I bet it's those damn Animal Rights activists! They're letting them run around free, scaring the hell outta people, just for the hell of it."

"Huh?" said Rebecca, looking at him funnily.

"Oh yeah," Chloe explained. "I'd almost forgotten about them." She took a bite out of her scone. "For some reason, there have been a lot of horse instances lately. You know, a wandering horse here, a couple of galloping ones there. No one knows who or what's causing it, or even weirder, where the damn horses are coming from. They just seem to appear out of nowhere."

"Really?" said Rebecca, looking interested.

She nodded. "It started a few weeks ago. At first it was nothing but the odd horse around the city. People just thought it was some farmer's horse that had gotten loose in the city somehow. But since then there's been at least a dozen separate instances, and so far no one is missing any of their animals. It's like they're coming out of the woodwork."

"Goodness. And no one's claimed them?"

"There's been nothing to claim."

"Huh?"

"There's the next weird thing… The horses not only appear out of nowhere. They also vanish into thin air, as well. No one knows where they get to. People say they just saw them one moment, and then the next they had disappeared."

"How's that even possible? I mean a horse is a pretty big thing to hide, even in London city."

"Like I said, who knows? The police haven't any clues. The only ones who've come up with any kind of theory are those crackpot tabalists. The latest one I read suggested that aliens were beaming them up."

Rebecca scoffed, and took another sip of her tea. "So how's married life suiting you?" she then asked.

Chloe just shrugged casually. "Ohhh…it's nothing special."

Rebecca gave her a snide glance, earning a few giggles from her childhood friend.

"Okay, it's been brilliant! James is absolutely the best! He's warm, kind, considerate, loving…"

Chloe then went off into what Rebecca affectionately called her 'wifey mood', which basically meant she would go on for the next few minutes, talking about James and how good he was. As happy as she was for her friend, if she heard one more comment about what a good lover James was, she was going to lose her lunch.

Fortunately, either Chloe seemed to get the hint, or she was simply more interested in Rebecca's own life, she stopped. "But tell me, what's been new with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've hardly written to me all year. You didn't even make it to my wedding."

She winced. "I am sorry about that, Chloe. I really wanted to make it, but I was tied up with work, and other things."

"Yeah-yeah, I know all about it." She waved her hand about. "Look, I don't mind you missing the wedding. But what's with the cold shoulder? I mean, is it so hard for you to turn on your Laptop and send me a quick email now and then?"

"No, but…" She paused, chewing on her lower lip. "I've just had…other things on my mind, at the moment."

"What sort of things?"

She paused again, lightly tapping her spoon against her saucer. "Well…I didn't want to say anything until I had a chance to tell my parents, but…I've had some pretty good news before I left Florence."

Chloe chewed a little on her eggs Benedict, and raised an eyebrow at her. "Such as?"

"Well, first of all…I've been made a most generous offer from the Art Museum. They're starting a new exhibition, focusing on classic mythical creatures, and they want me to submit some of my artwork."

"That's excellent!"

"Yes, and…" She faltered, blushing a little, "…and there's something else. You see, the reason why I haven't had time to text or email you a lot this year, is because…"

"_Hem, hem." _

The two of them turned their heads in surprise, at the low cough that had interrupted them from behind.

"Fancy meeting you two again, after so long!" The owner of the voice was a white man in his late 30s to early 40s, bald, fairly well built with the exception of a little weight around his midsection, and a brown goatee turning grey.

"Can we help you?" said Chloe, looking at him in confusion.

"You don't remember me, do you?" the man said, though his voice didn't sound as if he was insulted. "Not surprising. I mean, we only met the one time, but I would've thought a helicopter crash would be enough to lodge three person's meeting in their memory."

Chloe's eyes widened, as she suddenly remembered. "Well, bless my soul. Mr…Doncaster, is it?"

"Yup! John Doncaster, helicopter pilot, at your service." He made an exaggerated bow before them, his brown eyes lit up merrily. Chloe giggled, while Rebecca just stared at him.

Unlike her friend, she had recognised John Doncaster the moment she had seen him. How could she forget? For he had been part of what had been the most wondrous, mystical, dangerous and terrifying time in her entire life.

He had been hired to take her and her friend Chloe for a small helicopter ride, on her birthday. During the trip, the helicopter engine had suddenly exploded, due to a small bomb that had been hidden prior to lift-off. The ones responsible for the bomb had never been caught, but luckily no one was killed. They had all crash-landed in a large forest, which even today was unknown to the rest of the UK, as it had been hidden from all…_ordinary_ folk.

It was there that Rebecca had made one of the most astounding discoveries of her life, a discovery that not many people of her kind were made privy to. She had found out about the existence of magic! Everything that she had always believed to be nothing more than fairy-tales, turned out to be true. Since landing in that forest, she had been held captive by a herd of Centaurs, been chased by a giant spider, met a giant man, and rode on the back of some kind of Griffin beast called a Hippogriff.

She had learned that the world was not just made up of mere humans, but all sorts of creatures that had long since been thought to be make-believe. Wizards and witches also existed, living amongst ordinary humans, keeping the world of myth and magic safely hidden from ordinary humans.

But, although the experience had been amazing and truly mind-boggling for her, it had also been one of the most frightening times in her life, thanks to the Centaurs.

After crashing in the forest, and getting chased away from the others by a giant spider, she had been captured by a herd of Centaurs that lived there. They had taken her in, keeping her as a prisoner, which she later learned was because they intended to use her as breeding stock, to replenish their race's numbers. She had even come close to actually being raped by one of them, a memory that still terrified her to no end. It was only thanks to one of the Centaurs, Firenze, that she had been able to escape unharmed.

"I thought I recognised you from over the road," Doncaster said cheerfully, interrupting her thoughts. "So tell me, how have you little ones been treating yourselves since we last met?"

Chloe waved her hand. "Oh, nothing much. School mostly, of course. I'm married. Becky here lives in Italy now, working as an artist…"

"Really?" he said, looking at her in interest. "Is that so?"

She smiled. "I sell my own work, as well as help out in some of the galleries, by repairing and restoring old paintings."

"Fascinating!" He seemed genuinely interested, as well as a bit excited, perhaps overly so. But then again, it had been a while since they last met. "What kind of paintings do you…Oh, how sweet!"

They looked down to see a black and white tomcat purring by the man's legs, who seemed positively smitten with the mongy, as he picked it up and cradled it in his arms.

"Isn't he just adorable!" he cooed. "What a little cutie!"

'Okaaay, definitely something weird about him,' she thought.

"Rebecca's also just been commissioned to display some of her work, at an opening that one of the museums is having," Chloe added, ignoring the cat.

"Oh really?" said Doncaster, letting the beast go and sitting down to help himself to some tea, adding in a few teaspoons of sugar to his cup that a waiter had just set down in front of him. "What kind of themes do you paint, my dear? Animals, buildings, countryside…?"

"Mythical creatures, actually." She revealed.

"Rebecca's really got a thing for painting fairy-tale monsters," Chloe said, giggling. "You should see some of her work, especially one she did of a giant spider. Oh! The thing gave me the goosebumps for weeks, when I saw that."

Although Doncaster appeared nonplussed, Rebecca could swear she could almost see a shudder quake through his body. "Spiders are a gruesome sight, indeed," was all he said.

'Funny,' she thought. 'He seems more sensitive than I remember.'

"So tell me," he suddenly asked. "Where you girls staying nowadays? We should get together some time."

Rebecca and Chloe both gave him a strange look. The way he had just said that right now seemed so peculiar. The thing about asking where they lived was definitely cause for alarm. Okay, so the guy had given them a helicopter ride several years ago, that hardly made them friends, and it certainly didn't give him the right to ask their home addresses.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he added, as though just catching himself. "I didn't know what I was thinking, asking your personal details like that. You must think me a pervert. Please forgive me."

Chloe gave her usual bright smile. "Sure!" she said, waving it away dismissively.

Rebecca, on the other hand, was more reserved. She didn't know what it was, but there was something just not quite right about this guy. Nonetheless, they spent the next few minutes idly chatting, talking about what they had been up to, or rather Chloe did all the chatting, while everyone else just listened.

Doncaster seemed more interested in her than Chloe, as he asked a number of questions about her art, where she now lived and such. Luckily, he didn't ask where her home address was, as not even Chloe would tell him that, though she did mention she was staying with her parents now. Then again, that was no surprise, as anyone could probably find that out by looking on the Internet (one of the bad things about being a politician's daughter, as you have very little privacy).

"I'm afraid I must be going," said Doncaster finally, downing the last of his tea in one gulp, and then getting up. "Please excuse me. But perhaps we can get together again, catch up on old times?"

"That would be nice," replied Chloe politely, while Rebecca just gave him an equally polite smile.

"Please, take my card," he added, taking out a couple and handing them to them. "This way, we'll be able to stay in touch."

They each took one of the cards, and smiled again.

"Very nice to see you again, Mr Doncaster," said Rebecca.

"Likewise," added Chloe.

Doncaster didn't reply this time, but gave them a small smile and a nod, and then walked off.

"Okay, now that was just freaky," Chloe gave an exasperated shudder. "Guy's definitely gained a few points on the creep-O-monitor since we last saw him."

"You can say that again," she replied, pocketing the card he had given her. "The guy's like 20 years older than us, we only met him the one time and never since, and he's asking to get together?"

"Maybe he's going through a midlife crisis or something? My uncle went through something similar. My aunt told me she had to stop him from going roller-blading, swimming with sharks, and skydiving."

She frowned. "Maybe…"

But there was also something else, too. It wasn't just what he had said, but the way he had said it. His tone had seemed almost… She didn't want to say girly, but frankly, the way he had sounded would have been enough to make Julian Clary sound manly.

"Funny thing, too," said Chloe. "He definitely didn't act like the guy I remember. When we were on that chopper, and it crashed, he took charge of everything and made sure I was safe. He was the perfect gentleman all throughout."

Rebecca remembered. She also remembered how he had yelled at her when she had demanded that he take the chopper for a closer look over the forest. He had had a perfect right for shouting at her, as she knew she had been a bit of a spoilt brat back then, and there had been a storm brewing at the time. He had been angry, dominant, strong, and fearless against shouting at an employer's daughter.

What could have happened to make him change so?

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**One Week Later;**

**Leicester Residence; 1104AM:**

Rebecca finished the letter she had been writing, signing it with her own special signature, with a kiss, and folded it into the envelope. Her parents had gone out for the morning, shopping, and she had promised she would meet them later for lunch.

Grabbing her coat, she left by the front door, to head to the Post Office. She wanted to make sure her letter would arrive soon, since she didn't trust Airmail all that much, so she would pay for special delivery.

She bumped into someone, as she left via the front gate.

"Sorry," she said, looking to whomever she had bumped into, but he or she had already gone.

'Charming person,' she thought sarcastically, and walked on ahead. She almost didn't notice the policeman on the horse over the road.

'Don't see too many of those anymore.'

Police-horses were basically becoming extinct. What with countless automobiles on the road now, it was not really safe having them on the road anymore. They were really more of a decorative theme than anything, used mostly by police on the beat around parks.

She didn't notice the way the policeman followed her all the way down the road, until she turned a corner. At first she thought nothing of it, as she assumed he was on patrol. But by the time she had passed her third corner, and had walked into a fairly large built up area, with countless people walking about, she knew he had to be following her. No way would anyone bring a horse into an area like that.

However, the strange thing was that even though people could obviously see the policeman and his beast, as they stepped aside to let it pass, they didn't appear to be surprised by it. They merely gave the pair an odd look, but then seemed to forget all about them the moment they looked away.

Feeling slightly anxious, she continued walking on until she reached a more secluded area, and then she stopped and turned around to face him.

"Is there a problem, officer?" she asked.

He made no response, but just trotted his horse up to her until its snout was right up to her own nose. For some reason, though, she could feel no air coming from its nostrils, as they flared at her.

"Have I done something…?" she began, but before she could finish, the man reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Hey! What are you…?!"

"We've been looking for you a long time, Rebecca," said the policeman. "You gave us a merry chase, but now…the chase is over."

Rebecca couldn't help but freeze in shock, her memories from almost six years ago replaying in her mind at full speed. The man before was not anyone she knew, but the voice…was uncannily familiar.

He held onto her arm with a steel-grip, and as she stared at him, his whole form seemed to start shimmering before her, like someone's reflection in a pond. One moment she saw a man on a horse, and the next she saw a large white Centaur standing before her.

"Aonghus," she breathed out, staring in disbelief at the huge man-beast she hadn't laid eyes on in years.

Like all of his kind, he did not look like the traditional Centaurs seen in storybooks, which looked like normal men from the head to the waist, followed by a horses' body. Although he did have a horse body, as well as a human one from the head down to the waist, the man part of him looked more beastial than human.

His body was covered with horsehair, including his face that was long with horse-like ears. His face wasn't as long as a horse's, but it was still longer than any ordinary human. The hair on his body was pure white, but with a crop of platinum blonde hair on his head. He was massive in both his human and horse sections, which were thick with bulging muscle.

He gave her a sly grin. "You remember me. How nice." His hand gripped her all the more tighter.

She stared at the people all around them, but none were even giving the two a glance. What was wrong with these people?! Didn't they notice that there was an actual live Centaur in the middle of London city?!

"Let me go!" she shrieked, trying in vain to push him away, or at least free her arm. It did her no good against his powerful strength. Her outburst, though, did seem to attract a few onlookers from the crowd, but only for a mere second before they immediately looked away, seeming to forget all about them.

Aonghus laughed, as his other hand reached her side, pulled her against him, and lifted her up into his embrace. "I'd forgotten what a spirited little vixen you were. All the better!" He brought her up to his eye-level. "I'll make sure that I'm there at the front of the queue," he said in a whisper, and before she could ask him what he meant, he kissed her.

"MMMM," she squealed, as his large tongue invaded her mouth, leading hers in a merry dance. It explored her mouth thoroughly, as he made loud murmurs of approval. She could feel his smirk through the kiss, as his lips moved over hers, dominantly.

"_Stupefy_!" a voice from somewhere suddenly cried out.

"Ugh!" Aonghus said in a wince, as something seemed to bang into him, breaking his kiss with her, as well as his grip, allowing her to slip out of his grasp.

The crowd had now seemed to finally catch on that there was something going on, as there was a chorus of gasps and startled screams, followed by numerous people asking aloud what was happening.

Rebecca saw Aonghus land a few feet away from her, dazed but apparently unharmed, as he lay groaning on the ground.

"That won't hold him down for long!" said the voice that had cast the spell, hurriedly. "We have to move! Hurry!"

Her arm was once more seized, and she was pulled to her feet before being dragged through the crowd, running as though their lives depended on it.

"Wait!" she tried to say. "What's going…"

"Later" said the stranger, as he pushed through the swarm of people, and raced ahead, pulling her along behind him.

Everything had happened so fast that she hadn't even had a chance to look at the face of the one who had saved her. His back was currently to her, as they ran through the crowd, but he was dressed in a long coat, and had a thick mop of dark hair. He also seemed to be carrying a long stick in his hand, which he held out in front of him, never lowering it.

The sight of the stick made her heart freeze, as she knew of only one kind of person who would carry a stick like that…the kind that could probably blast a Centaur off his hooves for instance.

They ran for a couple of blocks, before they came to a red telephone box on the side of the street. He wasted no time, as he practically ripped the door open and pushed her inside.

"Now hold on a minute!" she yelled, holding out her hands to keep her distance from him. "Listen! I don't know what's going on here, but…"

"I'm here to help you, Miss Leicester," he said. "Or would you rather I have left you to _Aonghus's_ tender care?"

She paused, staring intently at him. This was the first time she had gotten a good look at him. He was a few years younger than her, but well built, with dark black hair, a thin face, round spectacles that enhanced a pair of bright green eyes, and...

"Hang on a moment," he then said, and grabbed the phone's receiver, quickly dialling in some digits.

"_Welcome to the…"_ a woman's voice came out of nowhere, filling the entire telephone box they were in.

"Forget the intro!" the man snapped. "We have an emergency. Let us in now, authorisation Dumbledore 110!"

There was a pause, and then the woman's voice replied, _"Authorisation accepted." _

The moment she said this, the floor of the telephone box shuddered, and Rebecca felt herself slowly sinking into the ground. Soon, the light of the day was lost to her, as they passed down into darkness, seeing nothing.

"Don't worry," the man's voice suddenly said, speaking for once in a calm tone. "It was a shock for me, too, coming to this place the first time. The ride down only lasts about a minute, so it'll be over soon."

She could only nod and take his word for it, as she patiently waited, her hands trembling slightly.

Soon enough, as he promised, light soon returned, coming from the floor and gradually covering the rest of her body. She had to blink a few times before her sight adjusted, but when it did, she gasped.

She was in a grand hall of some sort, with a dark wooden floor, a bright blue ceiling with various gold symbols, which seemed to be moving, and what looked like big empty fireplaces everywhere.

"Wh…whe…" she stuttered.

"Come with me," he said, as he took her arm again, but this time he did it gently and without rush. Apparently, he saw no danger in this place.

There were dozens of people about, most of them all dressed in strangely styled robes, the kind that Merlin would have been happy in. A few gave them the odd look, but overall none took any notice of them.

As they walked pass some of the empty fireplaces, a few of them suddenly sprang to life with emerald-green fire, which only lasted for a second, and then vanished, leaving behind a man or a woman in its wake.

"We're lucky that the Ministry is so quiet today," the stranger muttered. "This will make it a bit easier."

She gave him a quiet stare, as they went on until they came to a large fountain. It was a group of golden statues centred in a pool. The statues were of a man and a woman she had never seen before, plus two small creatures that looked a bit like trolls to her, and the other…was a Centaur.

The two trolls and the Centaur seemed to be gazing up in adoration at the man and the woman. Rebecca couldn't help but scoff at that.

The spectacled man looked at her questioningly. "Something wrong?"

"Just out of curiosity," she asked. "The guy who designed this fountain here… Did he ever actually _meet_ a Centaur?"

He stared at the fountain, and shrugged. "I don't really know who designed it, as it's been here for years… Well, the design has anyway. The original one got destroyed a couple of years ago, then got replaced with a new design, only for that one to be replaced with this one again."

"Why?"

He frowned darkly. "Let's just say the one they replaced it with…_wasn't_ very friendly. Mind you, I don't think this one is much better. A dear friend of mine once said that it was a lie. It's supposed to represent unity and harmony between all races in our society. But until recently, most wizards and witches just spent their time looking down on them. I mean, just look at it! The whole 'them looking up and adoring the wizard', seems more like an ego boost than anything."

She chuckled lightly. "Thought so. Believe me, it would be a cold day in hell before a Centaur would ever look up to a human like that statue there is doing. If anything, Centaurs would be the ones looking down on them, and as for the looks on their faces… Well, let's just say it wouldn't exactly be adoration you'd be seeing."

He continued to stare at her for a few moments, an amused and highly interested look on his face. "You really were with the Centaurs, weren't you?"

Rebecca held her breath. Damn it, why did she have to open her big mouth?!

In the end, though, she sighed in resignation. It was pointless to hide it any longer, as they had already exposed themselves to her. Why would they do that, unless they already knew the truth?

"And you're a wizard, I'm guessing," she said, confirming for him what he was probably thinking. To his credit, he didn't look shocked or even surprised at her comment. "And I assume this place here is…what do you call it…Wizard's Police?"

He chuckled. "I suppose you could say that."

Rebecca closed her eyes, while clenching her fists. Damn it, why did she ever come back home?! Deep down she had always been afraid of this happening. That the wizards would one day return, find out she had been lying about not remembering anything about the Centaurs, magical creatures, wizards and witches.

Firenze, the Centaur she had befriended many years ago, and that giant…Harvard, or whatever his name was…had warned her about the wizards in their world. They told her that the officials didn't allow Muggles, non-magical folk like her, to learn about them and their world, and would often go to extremes to ensure their secret remained intact. Those extremes included seeking out any Muggle who had been witness to anything magical, and altering their memories. If they had known that she knew about the creatures in the Forbidden Forest, and everything else, it was doubtful they would have let her keep any of her memories.

It was only thanks to Firenze and the giant, whose warning had spared her from that fate. She had never told anyone about what had really happened the day she had went out on that helicopter ride, even though everyone seemed to believe that she had never been on it (a result of the wizards altering the memories of Chloe and Doncaster). Aside from her paintings, she made no sign that she remembered any of it, and up till now no one had ever bothered her.

Now, it seemed, her luck had run out.

"Am I to be arrested then?" she asked bitterly. "Have my memories wiped out, or what?"

"Do you want to?"

She looked at him funnily. "Not particularly."

"Then no."

"But I thought ordinary people like me weren't allowed to know about…people like you?"

"They still don't. But the old laws they used to live by… Well, let's just say they've gone through some changes since the last time you were in the wizarding world."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Your leader had a change of heart or something?"

"We've had three other Ministers since you were around. The first one, who was the one in charge when you came, got kicked out of office, the next one was killed, as was the next one after him, followed by the present one."

She blinked. "Gone through your fair share of Ministers, haven't you."

He snorted. "Like you wouldn't believe. But come on, I've got a friend who's waiting to see you." He urged her to follow, but was gracious enough not to pull her on her arm anymore.

As they started walking again, she couldn't resist asking, "By the way, why did they bother bringing back this fountain, if you think it's so rubbish?"

He shrugged. "Not all wizards and witches think like me. Plus, we've recently gotten through a dark time here in our community, and I guess a lot of Ministry folk want to try and make things the way they were before that all happened, hence the statue. Besides, like I said, this one's a lot better than the previous one at least."

She followed him for a while, looking in interest at the various witches and wizards that passed by them. The place seemed remarkably quiet for a so-called Ministry, she thought. They soon came to a desk sitting to the left of some golden gates, where a man in a blue robe sat. He was youngish, in his 30s, dark haired, but Rebecca didn't really pay that much attention to him.

"I'm escorting a visitor," the stranger said (she had to remember to ask him what his name was).

There was a sign that said Security on the desk, so she assumed the man in the blue robe was a security guard. He looked at her, but then seemed to notice something about her.

"Where's her visitor's badge?" he asked.

"We didn't have time to get her one. There was an incident, concerning the Centaur situation, and this lady is pivotal relating to that. I'll take full responsibility."

The security guard gave her a scrutinizing gaze, but then just nodded and indicated her to come over to him. When she did, he passed a golden wand over her, which she guessed had to be the same as when guards at the airport checked for weapons and such.

"Wand," he said, but her host (as she didn't know what else to call him yet) beat her to it.

"She doesn't have one," he explained.

The guard gave them both a curious look, but thankfully didn't question them any further. He pointed to the gates. "Proceed."

"Thanks." Her host replied, and waved at her to follow him.

They walked pass the gates, to a smaller hall with what looked like twenty elevators, but the old fashioned kind (the ones with grilles).

"Hop in," he told her, as they came up to one, passing by the grilles and stepping inside. There was only one other person besides them inside, a witch in a purple robe.

The lift came to life as soon as they got inside, and it began to ascend upwards. When it eventually came to a stop, the same female voice that she had heard before spoke: -

"_Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau." _

"This way," he added, stepping out of the lift. She calmly, but cautiously, followed him into a long hall where there were various people bustling about.

She then noticed the paper aeroplanes flying about, and thought for a moment that someone was playing, as there were dozens of them floating overhead. But when they remained up in the air, instead of floating down, she began to wonder.

"Those are memos," her host pointed out to her, noticing her looking at them. "We don't have computers or emails here, so we enchant paper to fly with our messages."

She blinked at him. "Of course," was all she could reply.

They carried on for a short while longer, walking by various smaller offices until they passed a huge sign that said _Beast Division_, and further on they stopped at an office with a sign that read _Centaur Liaison Office_.

"And to think, people used to joke about coming to this place," he muttered. "The only time when someone was told to come to the Centaur Liaison Office was when they were about to be sacked. Now, this office is rarely empty."

"Why's that?"

"People have been using this office to give reports about the Centaurs, such as sightings and any meetings they may have had with them. As far as actual liaison with a Centaur goes, only one Centaur have ever actually been here and used this place."

Rebecca wondered what he meant, but as he opened the door, her thoughts were soon drowned out by the numerous shouts, calls and typical office sounds that flooded out of it. The place was filled to the brim with people, each one shouting out instructions to another…

"_We've got another sighting! Send an Auror to Trafalgar Square…!" _

"_The Centaurs are out of control! Someone's got to talk to them again…!" _

"_At this rate, the Muggles are bound to notice…!"_

"_They're threatening us again! What'll we do if they go ahead with it?! It's been less than a year since You-Know-Who's defeat, we can't…!"_

"Go ahead to the office at the front." He pointed to a door ahead. "I'll be with you shortly."

She gave him a nervous look, but slowly nodded and cautiously made her way forward. As she walked on ahead, she couldn't help listening to more of the other people's shouts and complaints. There were so many of them, each different, but all were apparently connected to the Centaurs.

Despite her apprehension, she was also confused and intrigued. From what she remembered about them, the Centaurs had had no interest in any contact with people, or any desire to be seen by them, and now all of a sudden they were leaving that forest of theirs, and risking exposure.

What could have happened in six years?

She reached the door at the end, and knocked, feeling it only polite to do so. After a moment, a faint voice said, "Enter."

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and went in.

"Hello?" she said, closing the door behind her. "I was told to come here by… Well, I don't know his name, but he…"

"Hello, Rebecca," the voice spoke again, but this time louder and clearer, and she recognised it at once.

She turned to her right, and saw yet another Centaur standing before her. But while Aonghus was pure white, and had had a sly look of lust upon his face, this one was dark brown, and looked at her with an expression of kindness and sombre delight.

"Fi…Firenze?" she stuttered, staring in amazement at him.

He smiled gently at her. "It's good to see you again, my little friend."

After a moment's pause, she found herself running up to him, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck, and embracing him tightly.

Firenze held her, his arms even more muscular than ever, enveloping her in his warm embrace.

"Firenze!" she cried into his chest. "I…I…I never thought I'd see you again. How did you find me? What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer at first, and just continued holding her, his large hand gently stroking her hair. "My friend found you for me," he said finally. "I asked him to, as I feared for your safety. I have been waiting here nearly all day, since he told me he was going to go bring you."

She pulled back from him. "Your friend…Oh, you mean the guy in glasses?"

"Yes," the man in question said, as the door suddenly opened and he walked in. He looked as though he had been brushing himself up, as his hair was now combed back.

Rebecca blushed a little, stepping out of Firenze's embrace. Firenze, however, didn't seem to see any reason to be embarrassed, and just nodded in acknowledgement of his human associate.

"You have my eternal gratitude for bringing her safely to me, my friend," he said. "I can honestly say this is the first time in many a day when I have been at ease."

"No problem. But our work here is far from finished."

"Indeed not."

"Unless we can find a way to work out the issue, I don't see how we can avoid…"

"Err, excuse me?" said Rebecca.

The Centaur and her host looked at her in question.

"Yeah, hi. Sorry for intruding on you and your discussion, but…in the last half hour, I have been attacked and nearly kidnapped by a deranged Centaur, been saved by a wizard, who by the way still hasn't introduced himself to me, brought to some underground office with magical paper-planes, been reunited with an old friend, and fed useless bits and pieces of odd information. So, if it's not too much bother, would you all mind telling me…WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?!"

Her host smirked, and looked at Firenze. "High spirited, isn't she?"

"More than I remember."

"Hey!"

"I apologise, Miss Leicester," her host said, bowing before her. As he did, she noticed on his forehead a small scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. "First of all, allow me to introduce myself. My name's Potter…Harry Potter."

"Charmed, I'm sure," she muttered, and looked back to Firenze. "Firenze, please, tell me what's happening? What the devil is Aonghus doing so far away from your forest? Why was he after me? And why did you send Merlin over there after me?"

Harry Potter gave her a glance, but said nothing.

Firenze looked down, bearing an expression of regret. "I am so sorry, Rebecca. I had hoped it would never come to this. After so many years, I foolishly thought the herd had forgotten and moved on, but it seems I was wrong."

"Forgotten what?" She looked at him, and then at Harry who was remaining out of the discussion for the moment. "What's happened?"

He began pawing at the floor, his hoof making loud clip-clops on it. "My herd were recently made aware of your location, and now…they've come for you."

"What?"

He raised his head to look at her, his face a picture of regret. "When you disappeared all those years ago, my herd swore to one day find you…find you and return you to the forest with them. And they're not going anywhere, nor are they bothered with who sees them, until they have you."

**To Be Continued…**


	3. Chapter 2

_**CHAPTER 2**_

_**Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!**_

0000000000

**Ministry of Magic;**

**Centaur Liaison Office:**

"But…why?" Rebecca stared at the two of them in shock. "Surely I can't be that important to them?"

Firenze and Harry Potter both looked at her uneasily.

"You remember all those years ago, when I explained to you the customs of my herd?" Firenze explained. "Do you recall the night when Magorian, my leader, attempted to take you as his intended?"

Rebecca had to think for a moment, wondering what he meant by intended, before she remembered that was what the centaurs called someone who they were about to mate with. When she realised this, the memories of that horrible night came flooding back to her.

"Unfortunately, yes," she admitted, her voice shaking. Out of all the time she had spent with Firenze and his kind, that night had been the one she had tried the hardest to blank out of her memory.

The Centaur race had a low population, with only several herds across the UK, from ten to fifty centaurs at most for each one. The reason for this was because centaurs did not have many of those capable of bearing foals, which they called Breeders. Technically, centaurs were an all-male race. A centaur was human from the head down to the torso, but that part was always of a man, never a woman, while the rest of their body was that of a horse. Most had the horse body of a stallion, and were called Sires, while some had the horse body of a mare, which were the Breeders. But Breeders were few and rare, hence the reason why their numbers were so small.

There had been a time once, though, when their race had numbered in the hundreds, thousands of years ago in ancient Greece, where their kind were known to abduct and rape human women, using them as Breeders to produce foals. That had stopped, however, when the Greeks had driven them out of their country, and their ancestors eventually made their way to the UK where they were welcomed by the sorcerers of the time, on the promise that they would no longer abduct any humans. They had agreed, even though many of them at the time and since then had not been happy with the decision. Even today, because of their race's low numbers, many centaurs often grew frustrated with the treaty.

The treaty stated explicitly that the centaurs would not kidnap any humans, and bring them onto their land against their will. The only other such time, besides Rebecca, when they had done that had been with Dolores Umbridge, and they had done so because she had attacked and aggravated them in the forest, which was their domain after all. The Ministry had agreed that Dolores had been in the wrong, and the centaurs had released her without harm anyway, so no action had been taken.

However, it didn't say anything about a human that came onto their land willingly, as Rebecca had done by accident. Since she had come to them by herself, and because everyone outside the forest had thought her dead, the centaurs chose to keep her with them. The fact that she was also a muggle, and apparently not considered too important by the Ministry and the people of the wizarding world, only made it that easier for them.

When they had decided once and for all that she would be staying with them, they had decreed she would help replenish their numbers. They had even looked into her future, by use of the stars, and foresaw one of two futures for her (a result that still puzzled some of them), in which she would produce many fine foals for their herd.

Rebecca could still remember the night when the centaurs had dragged and carried her into the Circle in their village, and held her down while Magorian, the centaur's leader, had been acting like a horse in heat, preparing to mount her. She had only just managed to escape that fate by demanding that they allow her the right to chose who her first intended would be. It had worked, and she had been given three days to choose, though it was unnecessary, as Firenze had helped her escape two days later.

Harry walked forward and placed a calming hand on her. "You may want to sit down," he said. "It's a long story."

Feeling unable to do anything else, she did as she was told, allowing him to guide her to the chair by the unused desk at the back of the room.

"Do you recall the exact details of what happened that night, what Magorian said to you?" Firenze then asked.

Swallowing, she nimbly nodded.

"You were able to halt his intent to mate with you by asking that you'd be allowed to choose who your first intended should be. Magorian agreed, but he also said something else…"

"He warned me," she whispered, remembering. "He said that I had three days to choose, but if I tried to escape, he'd…" She trailed off.

"You would have no further rights, and he and all my herd would then take you, one after the other, regardless," he finished for her.

Harry gave the centaur a short glare, not approving of the harsh way he was explaining things to her. He didn't feel she needed to be scared further. But Firenze didn't believe in painting over the truth, or keeping things from anyone who deserved to know what was happening, and Rebecca needed to know _every_ thing.

Rebecca sat where she was, trembling slightly, as the memories of that night replayed in her mind. _"If you do not choose your partner by the time the third sun sets, or should you attempt to escape again…then any and all of your rights and privileges will be cast out, and you will be taken straight away regardless, and…" Magorian leaned forward, staring deeper into her eyes. "The next time you lie in this circle, it will not be just one of us that will mate with you, it will be **all** of us!"_

"So they're coming after me…" she stuttered, piecing together what Firenze was telling her. "After all this time…they're coming to make an example out of me, for escaping them when they were the ones holding me prisoner against my will?"

Firenze nodded slowly. "That's one of the main reasons, yes. If you had escaped before that night, I doubt my herd would ever bother going to all this trouble of finding you. But whenever a centaur makes a threat to someone, it's the same as a vow, and we always fulfil our vows, no matter what."

"But I thought your race was forbidden from going after a human beyond the forest?" she then asked, remembering more about what Firenze had told her during their time together. "You said your herd signed a treaty with the wizards, promising never to abduct another human, to ensure peace."

Harry gave a loud snort. "They did," he said. "Which makes this situation all the more difficult."

Firenze nodded. "As far as my herd are concerned, they are not violating the treaty. When you came onto our land willingly, albeit unknowingly, and they took you in as one of our Breeders, you immediately became part of our herd. And because Magorian swore what would happen to you, should you try to escape, he and my herd feel it is within their rights to reclaim you."

"But…"

"Despite all objections, they are adamant in their decision," he confirmed sadly. "They see no wrong in their decision, so they no longer care about the treaty or the wizards' objections. They do not even seem to care about being seen by humans, both magical and non-magical. All they care about, all they've really cared about for years, is getting you back, to ensure your punishment. And the thought of having you back as a Breeder, to produce more foals for our herd, makes that desire all the more stronger."

Rebecca stared hard at him. "Are you saying they...they will..." She shook horribly.

He gave a single nod. "Since you left, our herd's population has decreased even further, because of the war. And that makes you an even greater prize to them."

"War?"

"The war with Voldemort," Harry added helpfully.

Rebecca just stared at him blankly. "Who?"

Harry frowned, forgetting for a moment that she was no witch, and knew nothing of the wizarding world.

"A dark wizard," Firenze explained, "who called himself Voldemort. He managed to take over the human wizarding world for a time. But in the end, we were able to defeat him, though at a high price."

Rebecca noticed the dark look on Harry's face, and the way he kept rubbing that scar on his forehead. Apparently, this was not a favourite subject of his.

"He did more than that," Harry added. "Although we did defeat him, he left our world practically in ruins. So many lives were lost during the war, particularly those in the Ministry, the good ones at least. And even now, after over a year since his defeat, our people are still recovering."

"My herd assisted in the final battle," said Firenze, as he stepped closer to her, and then turned to his side, revealing his flank, which she hadn't noticed until now bore a heavy scar. "We lost several warriors, including two of our Breeders, but our losses were insignificant compared to the havoc wrought upon the wizards by this mad man."

Despite having worked at Hogwarts, with access to all sorts of magic that could have healed his injuries without leaving any marks, Firenze, like all centaurs, believed a scar was like a symbol of honour. It showed the hardships and battles they had lived through, and believed they should be shown, and not hidden.

She looked up. "You lost some of your herd?"

Although she felt bad for him, and was worried that some of those lost warriors might have been ones she had known, there was another thing that worried her more.

"Yes," he said, seemingly picking up on her thoughts. "As I said, our numbers have dwindled even lower since you were last with us, which makes capturing you even more important to my herd. For with you, they may be able to replenish some of their lost numbers."

She shivered.

"Some of the centaurs left their home to come seek you here in the city," added Harry. "We don't know how many, exactly, but we've reason to believe that at least half of Firenze's herd are here."

Rebecca felt like whimpering.

"As a result," he continued, "the Ministry has been stretched trying to deal with them and their continuous appearances throughout the city. We've had to Obliviate memories, arrange cover-ups, make up lies, you name it."

She quickly remembered what Chloe had told her about horses wandering loose in the city, and how they seemed to appear and disappear at random. None of them had even been caught.

"But...how?" she asked. "I mean, how are the centaurs not being noticed? Even Londoners would notice a half man, half horse wandering about."

Harry shrugged. "Partly it's to do with me and my team. Like I said, we do our best to cover up the centaur's appearances. But also, the centaurs have their own unique way of..._camouflaging_ themselves."

"Huh?" she said, looking at Firenze. "What does he mean?"

"Tell me Rebecca," he asked. "When Aonghus first approached you, what did you see?"

She paused for a moment, thinking. "Well… At first, when I saw him, I didn't even see a centaur. I saw what I thought was a man on horseback. I thought it was strange he was there, but didn't really take notice till he started riding through the crowd. I didn't see him for... Oh. That's it, isn't it?!"

Harry nodded. "Centaurs apparently have their own form of magic for concealing themselves. Before they came to the UK, they spent centuries wandering lands between here and Greece, so they needed to find a way to hide and protect themselves."

"So what I saw was...what? An Illusion or something?"

"Yes," Firenze answered. "One that protected us for centuries before we came to this land. But it is actually one of two enchantments that we used. The first is the illusion, which makes people see us as something like an ordinary horse, or a man on horseback. The second spell is something that basically makes people not notice us."

"Not notice?"

"You said so yourself. You didn't take notice of Aonghus until he was almost upon you. That was the effects of the second enchantment. It is designed specifically to affect another person's perception, filtering out all their curiosity and common sense. The people can see us, but because of the spell they basically don't find us very interesting, and their minds tend to drift to focus more on whatever else they're doing at the time. And once their heads are turned, they more or less forget about us."

"It's an ingenious way of hiding themselves," admitted Harry, "but unfortunately it has its drawbacks."

She stared at him. "How so?"

"For starters, the spells aren't very strong, so they don't last too long. Plus, if they touch someone, then both spells get broken. That someone will then see them for what they truly are, and even with the perception filter thing on at full strength; it's doubtful anyone would be able to forget seeing a real life centaur in front of them." Harry winced. "You would not believe all the cover-up stories we've had to think up this week alone."

"The spells are well over a thousand years out of date," explained Firenze. "They haven't been used in all of that time, since our herd settled in the Forest, and even then, aside from certain divination rituals, my race doesn't really use magic."

He paused for a moment, frowning. "Aonghus took a great risk in approaching you in a crowd as he did. I almost didn't believe Mr. Weasley when he told me."

"Why did he?" she asked, briefly wondering who Mr. Weasley was.

"The herd has been searching for you for days," he said in a sad tone. "This is a large city, and I assume he didn't want to take the chance of losing you. Also, Aonghus is not the most stealthy one among us, as he values his strength beyond cunning, but…sadly, I believe most of them feel the same as he, as they are all obsessed with finding you. Many believe retrieving you, what they perceive as theirs, is more important than keeping our secret. As far as the general public goes, muggles do not concern them."

"But why are they coming after me _now_?!" she asked, exasperated. "I haven't seen them or any of your race in close to 6 years. Why are they only just coming after me now? Why not right after I escaped?"

"They did not know where you were. They tried using knowledge from the stars, but what they told was inconclusive."

"Why?"

"The stars reveal the future to us, but nothing about the present or past. And they do not show us what we _desire_. If there's a future involving you, we will see it, or at least parts of it. It is all up to fate, and even then the future can always be misinterpreted."

"And what did the stars show you?" said Rebecca interestedly. She remembered how the centaurs used the stars for precognition, and had always been interested in it, especially what they had told her the last time she had been with them.

Firenze shrugged. "More or less the same as when you were with us. They showed us two visions. One was of you with our herd, producing foals. The other was of you still here in the human world. With that in mind, it would appear that you still have a choice to make, as before."

Before she could ask anything, Harry spoke up again.

"The centaurs spent some time looking for you," he said. "They went a little beyond their land's borders, but no more than a few miles. Like Firenze said, they had no way of knowing where you were, and it is a big world out there. Then they had some trouble with the old Ministry who were restricting some of their lands, and then, of course, the war started, which took up everyone's time."

"But…" She frowned. "If that's true…then how did you find out where I was? Or have you just been searching for me all this time?"

Firenze shook his head. "Most of my herd have been searching for you in this city for just the last week. They began looking when we were…_informed_ of your whereabouts."

"Informed?!"

0000000000

**One Week Ago; Forbidden Forest: **

_Magorian led his hunting party of three centaurs close to the edge of Hogwarts' borders. Their hunts had not been going well, as many of the forest's creatures had fled when Voldemort's forces had attacked the school. Most of them had yet to return, having settled in other areas. _

_Not that there wasn't still plenty of game left, but alas the only creatures that were still many in number were those of the more dangerous kind, such as Acromantulas and Manticores, which were located much farther away from their Herding Ground. _

_There had been a time when the centaurs would have not minded the extra travel, or facing such dangerous beasts. They still did not fear battle, but they could not risk leaving their land for too long. Several of their warriors, including one of their treasured Breeders, had been lost in the Battle of Hogwarts, so they did not dare risk leaving their herd alone too long. Their herd's numbers were already dangerously low, and if they lost any of their remaining Breeders, their herd would have no future. _

_That was why there were fewer of them on this hunt, as usually centaurs would hunt in groups of five to six, but many had stayed behind to watch over the herd. The ones who had come with him were Ronan, Bane and Firenze. _

_Magorian was the leader of the centaurs, so it was one of his responsibilities and duties to lead the hunts, to find food for the whole herd. He was a big centaur, well muscled with a masculine chest, and a chestnut hind that was not as shaggy as most of his race. The hair on his head, however, was long and black, as was his tail._

_Ronan had__ a lean human and horse body, with a chestnut coat that was brighter than Magorian's, red hair on his head with a matching beard, and a horse's gleaming body with a long reddish tail. He was the most doleful and peaceful member of their herd, with the exception of Firenze. _

_Bane was dark black, with a wild appearance that would give anyone the shivers just by looking at him. __He was a large centaur; completely black throughout his entire body, with a shaggy beard, well developed muscles, a broad chest, and a very fierce and unfriendly expression that seemed permanently fixed upon his face. _

_Firenze was the youngest among them, with __broad shoulders, strong arms, and dark brown hair all over him, __including __the hair on his head that was shaggy and wild,__ and a beard that covered the line around his face. The one thing that made him stand out were his eyes, which were a striking blue. Most centaurs tended to have dark eyes. _

_They were approaching the edge of the Forest, nearing Hogwarts' grounds. They had come this way because some of the Acromantulas were known to wander away from their colony, often going near the school, attracted by the scent of human. _

"_Be on your guard," Magorian told the others. "Spiders are notoriously tricky, unbelievably fast, and are often not seen unless they want to be seen." _

"_Wise words, to be sure," a low voice suddenly spoke out. _

_All four centaurs looked over sharply, as a dark hooded figure stepped out of the bushes, but did not come any closer to them. The figure's hood covered his or her entire face, and the robe the rest of the body, so they could not even see if the figure was a he or a she. _

"_What are you…?" Magorian was about to demand why he was there, but was halted by Firenze who seized his shoulder. _

"_Magorian," he whispered. "Don't forget where we are. We are on the human's land now, not ours." _

_Firenze had gotten permission from the current Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, to use the land near the school for their hunting. Despite being allowed back into his herd, he preferred to continue teaching Divination there. _

_Magorian hissed in displeasure, but had to acknowledge that he was correct. Ronan looked indifferent, seemingly uncaring about who was in the right. Bane looked angry, but fortunately chose to remain silent. _

"_My apologies, human," said Magorian. "I am…unused to being the one on somebody else's land. We are here, though, with your school leader's consent. She said we were allowed to hunt on your land." He took a step closer to the human, but for some reason he/she took an instant step back the moment he did. _

_He frowned at the human, about to speak, but the human beat him to it. _

"_I am not here about your hunting rights, centaur," the figure explained in that low tone again. "I am here to convey some information that I thought you may be interested in." _

_Bane crossed his arms and chose that moment to speak. "What information could you have that we centaurs could possibly be interested in?" _

_Ronan looked over at him. Despite fighting alongside the humans, witnessing their bravery and sacrifices, Bane's resentment towards humanity had never really lessened. He had admitted on the night of the battle of Hogwarts that the human's resiliency and courage had impressed him greatly, but in the long run it had not changed his views on them too much. _

_Not that Ronan could blame him really, considering his past with them. _

_The figure then lowered his hood, revealing his face, and that he was a he. _

"_I have information concerning a young lady who I believe was once a guest of your race…a Miss Rebecca Leicester?" he informed them all. _

_All four of them widened their eyes in surprise, though Firenze's reaction was one of shock and horror, as he stared at the man. How could this man know of Rebecca and her time with him and his herd?! No one outside their herd, besides Hagrid, knew of that. As far as everyone in the wizarding world knew, she had wandered around the Forbidden Forest, lost with amnesia, and remembered nothing of her time there. No one knew that she had even seen any centaurs. _

"_How do you know of her?!" Bane demanded, sparing Firenze from asking the question himself. _

_The man just smiled and replied, "I have my sources. But tell me, are you interested in what I have or not?" _

"_We ar…" Magorian started to say, but was cut off by Firenze who all but snapped, "We are not!" _

_Magorian turned to glare at him. "Firenze, explain yourself?!" _

"_My Leader, we should not trust the word of a stranger. How do we know what he says is true?" _

"_Whatever happened to your views of trusting humans, Firenze?" asked Bane snidely. _

_Firenze gave him a short look. "I still believe in giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, Bane. But even I am hesitant about trusting a complete stranger." _

_Ronan seemed to be contemplating the whole situation, as he viewed the human carefully. "He knows about the human who stayed with us briefly," he remarked. "He clearly knows more than those in the Ministry did. Besides Hagrid, and perhaps Dumbledore who is now dead, no one else knew about her. Tell us, Firenze, do you believe Hagrid divulged knowledge of the human to anyone?" _

_Firenze paused, looking as if he were torn, until finally he frowned and shook his head. "No," he begrudgingly admitted. Although this did not help him, he could not fault his old friend. _

"_Which still begs the question; how do you know of her?" Magorian asked the human again. _

"_And as I told you," the human replied, "I have my sources. Now, do you wish to know what I have or not?" _

"_Which would be?" _

_He smiled. "The location of the human in question." _

_Ronan half-raised an eyebrow, Magorian frowned, Firenze tried his best to look uncaring but found his heart hammering madly, and Bane… perhaps for the first time in many a year, he looked enticed. _

"_Where?" asked Bane. _

"_Peace, Bane," Magorian halted him, and then readdressed the human. "Say we believe you…why would you give us this information?" _

_He shrugged at them. "I have my reasons, which are of no concern to you. You can take the information I have or not, centaur, but be warned, I won't be making this offer again." _

_Magorian frowned again, looking thoughtful. Finally, after almost a minute, he asked, "Where is she?" _

_Firenze looked at him aghast, but quickly covered his expression. "My Leader," he said again. "What possible reason could we have for going after her again? She has been gone from our herd for more than 6 years. Surely she is of no importance?" _

_The centaur leader looked at him, his expression grave. "Do not forget the last vow I made to her, Firenze. I swore what would happen if she abused my generosity in allowing her the choice of who would be her first intended." _

_Firenze couldn't help but give a twitch at the side of his mouth, as he pondered Magorian's word 'generosity', considering that they had kept Rebecca against her will. _

"_But do you not think maybe it is best for us to simply forget about her?" he implored. "After all, she is but one human, and have we not enough problems of our own to contend with for now?" _

"_Problems that she might be able to solve for us," Bane suddenly interjected, causing everyone to turn to look at him, with Firenze barely holding onto his frustration. "Recall the main reason why we wanted the Rebecca creature in the first place, Magorian?" _

_Firenze felt his breath get caught in his throat. _

"_When we originally wanted her, our numbers were as few as they've always been, but now…" Bane seemed to wince. "We lost some of our bravest warriors, and even one of our Breeders. Our herd hasn't been in as dire a situation as this in centuries. The human may indeed be our one chance." _

"_But she's in the muggle world," said Firenze almost frantically. "We can not possibly go out there exposed, where the non-wizards and non-witches may see us. We'd be risking exposure for all magical races." _

"_Have you forgotten the spells our ancestors used when they lived in the outside world? We will use those to conceal ourselves."_

"_We haven't used those spells in over a millennium! And even when they were used regularly, they weren't exactly the most reliable of camouflage charms." _

"_Maybe not, but they're all we have!" _

"_We wouldn't have to use them if you just forget about the human. Your thirst for vengeance is…" _

"_This has nothing to do with revenge!" Bane roared at him. _

"_THAT'S ENOUGH, BANE!" Magorian bellowed. "And you, too, Firenze!" When the two of them had had a minute to calm down, Magorian looked over to Ronan. "Ronan, what is your advice?" _

_Ronan remained silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating the question. "Having the human return home with us would definitely aid us, but we must be aware of the consequences. This isn't like how it was before, Magorian. Don't forget, Rebecca Leicester wandered onto our land by her own freewill. We were within our rights to take her in as our own, but now…now she is far from us, beyond our borders." _

"_Exactly!" Firenze interrupted. "And let us not forget the treaty, My Leader." _

_Magorian frowned, his front hoof pawing the ground silently. "What you say makes sense, Firenze, Ronan." _

_Firenze almost let out a sigh of relief, while Bane looked disappointed and angered. However, that soon changed. _

"_Nevertheless," Magorian continued, "I made my vow years ago to that human. I warned her of the consequences should she betray us, and betray us she did." _

_Firenze felt himself deflate, feeling once more the stench of failure upon him. "But…the humans, and their Ministry." _

"_This has nothing to do with them," Bane added, a smirk with his voice. "The human is ours by right. Our law does not take shadow to the humans'." _

"_You are within your right to chose whichever action you feel best, Magorian," said Ronan. "But Firenze is correct. Going out into the humans' world, risking exposure, to kidnap a human to take back to our herd…the wizards will not take kindly to that. And with our numbers as few as they are…" _

"_I know, Ronan," said Magorian. "But, as you say, with our numbers as few as they are, what difference does it make if we do go to war. In less than a few generations, our herd may go extinct." _

"_Not necessarily!" Firenze objected. "Our herd has faced dire situations before, yet we have always bested them." _

"_But why should we now, when we have an easy solution waiting for us?" said Bane. _

"_I'd hardly call going out into the world, risking war and death, easy, Bane," Ronan remarked. _

"_But with a human in our herd, we could replenish all our lost centaurs within a few years! You know humans breed far faster than we do, and the vision we saw of her and her future with our race confirmed that." _

"_I agree," said Magorian. "If we were talking about some other human, then I might not be so eager. After all, what guarantee would we have that any one human we took would be able to successfully carry a foal, and survive the birth. But with this human, Rebecca, the Fates have shown us we have no worries." _

"_My Leader, please," Firenze begged. "What you're proposing is nothing less than all-out war! Neither side is in any state to fight yet. The war with the one they call Voldemort and his Death Eaters assured that." _

"_My mind is made up, Firenze," Magorian concluded, and then looked back to the human in front of them, who hadn't moved. "Tell me, human. Where can we find Rebecca Leicester?"_

_The human smiled. _

0000000000

**Centaur Liaison Office; Present:**

"He just came and told you where I was?" Rebecca asked, shocked breathless.

Firenze nodded, but that just left her with more questions.

"But…why? What does this guy have against me?"

"I don't know. I have never seen him before, and Harry Potter here has no clues either. After that night, I went straight to tell him all I knew. My herd has no knowledge of me informing on them. They think I am just continuing with my work at the school."

"I checked out everything," said Harry. "But I honestly don't know why any human would want to give the centaurs any information concerning you, Miss Leicester. And I know no one who would even know about it. I only know because Firenze told me, but before that, I had no idea."

"What did he look like?" she asked.

Firenze frowned, as he considered for a second. "The man was…I am unsure what counts as age in your species, but he appeared the same age as your late friend, Remus Lupin."

Rebecca looked to Harry who clarified for her by saying, "Late 30s to early 40s".

She nodded her thanks, but wondered why Firenze wouldn't know how old a man would appear to be. Didn't he spend a lot of time with people of other ages?

"He was pale skinned," Firenze continued, "no hair on his head, save for a short beard around his mouth, dark eyes and…"

"Wait!" said Rebecca suddenly. "His beard…it wasn't brown was it, turning grey?"

Firenze paused again for a moment, but then nodded. "Yes, actually, I believe it was." He stared at her curiously. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, but…" she stuttered momentarily. "His name's John Doncaster, but…he's not a wizard or anything. He doesn't know anything about the Wizarding World or centaurs. I mean, he was with me and my friend Chloe the day we crashed into the Forest, but they both had their memories wiped."

"Are you sure?" asked Harry urgently.

"Fairly. I met him once after I got home, but he didn't seem to remember anything. He and Chloe both thought that I never got on the helicopter with them, and they didn't recall anything about wizards or anything that they might have encountered in the Forest."

She thought for a second. "But…I did see him again recently. Chloe and I were having lunch in the city when he just strolled up to us, happy as you please, and started talking like we were old friends. I mean, I've only met him three times in my whole life, including that day, and the way he was acting, it was like we were at a school reunion."

"When was this?"

"About a week ago, on…Tuesday, I think."

Harry looked over to Firenze. "The same day this guy came to see you and your herd," he deduced.

"Indeed," Firenze concluded, pawing the ground in thought.

"But why?!" she said, frustrated. "This doesn't make sense. Doncaster never indicated that he knew anything about you or your world, otherwise he would never have flown me over the Forest in the first place all those years ago."

Harry adjusted his glasses. "When you saw him a week ago, how did he seem to you?"

"What? I don't know. He seemed... Well, actually, he…"

"Yes?"

"Well…like I said, I've only met the guy a total of three times in my whole life, but the first and second time I met him, he was…" She frowned. "Well, I wouldn't say buff, but he was definitely no wimp. He just seemed like the type of guy who took no fuss from anybody, drank beer, maybe had a tattoo, you know the type."

Harry shrugged, but said nothing, as did Firenze.

"But when I met him a week ago, he was… I don't want to be rude, but frankly, he just seemed so flighty to me. He talked with a simper in his voice, and when he asked for tea, the way he put sugar in it was like some old lady might have done. He just didn't talk or act like the guy I met years ago."

Harry chewed his lower lip. "Firenze, did the guy you met act like that?"

"Not really. But then again, he was acting rather nervously towards us."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He kept his distance, and wouldn't come anywhere near us."

"I'll go and check out this Doncaster, see if he's been in London or done anything suspicious," he told them both. "Maybe he had something to do with this, or maybe someone was just using him. He might have been doing this against his will, if he was under the Imperius Curse."

"The…what?" Rebecca stared at him.

"The Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses forbidden by law. It allows a wizard to take control of someone's mind, making them do all sorts of terrible things."

"Oh…" she said blankly, and could only say, "of…course."

"Either way, I'll check him out and let you know what I find."

"Thank you," said Rebecca, but her tone revealed she had more she wanted to say.

"What is it, Rebecca?" asked Firenze.

She looked up at him, her eyes betraying her worry. "Firenze, what you and the other centaurs talked about, the night Doncaster came to see you. You mentioned something about the treaty and…_all-out war_?"

Firenze looked down for a moment, and then up again, his eyes staring sorrowfully at hers. "Yes," he admitted.

Harry looked at her just as sadly. "It's like I told you, Miss Leicester," he explained. "The Ministry won't stand back and let the centaurs come take you. Not only does it violate the treaty, but also the Ministry would never allow the centaurs to kidnap a Muggle of all people, as it would risk revealing our world's existence to everyone. Our world's most important laws revolve around our need for secrecy."

"Don't the centaurs need the same thing, too?" she asked.

Firenze sighed. "Usually, but now… Now their pride has consumed them. Together with the thought of once again using you as a Breeder, to save our herd, they have lost track of all that's important. Aonghus is the perfect example, judging by the way he willingly risked exposure to seize you."

"And you think all your people will do this?" Rebecca looked hopelessly at him.

He shrugged. "Some will probably be more subtle than he was, but all in all, yes."

Giving a silent moan, she sank back into her chair. "Then…this means they're not going to give up, are they?"

Firenze and Harry both looked unsurely at her.

"That…does seem unlikely," Firenze told her.

"The Ministry have been doing all in their power to try and find a diplomatic way to resolve all this," added Harry. "I know the present Minister, and I'm sure, given time, he will…"

"The centaurs will never give up," she said quietly. "I know that much about them. Once they set their minds to something, they never give in. If they truly want me then nothing will stand in their way, neither the police or your Ministry."

She stared straight into Harry's eyes. "Mr. Potter, tell me truthfully. If your Ministry won't give me up, and if the centaurs don't back down…what will that mean in the long-run?"

Harry paused slowly, looking at her and then at Firenze, and then back at her.

"The truth!" she demanded.

He sighed. "If a resolve can't be reached then the only alternative is war."

She looked over to Firenze. "Your herd would be willing to go to war against the whole Ministry and all its wizards, just to get me?"

He nodded. "Since the war with Voldemort, both my herd and the Ministry have been left severely weakened. Neither side is ready to fight another war so soon, which means that if they do..."

"What?!"

Firenze frowned. "If they go to war, it is unlikely either side will emerge victorious…assuming there is anyone left at all."

Rebecca felt her lungs deflate, as his words sank in. There was going to be a war…and she was the cause of it all!

**To Be Continued…**


	4. Chapter 3

_**CHAPTER 3**_

_**Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!**_

0000000000

**Ministry of Magic;**

**Centaur Liaison Office:**

"I can't believe this is happening," Rebecca said in a dead tone.

"Please don't give up hope, Miss Leicester," said Harry, trying to reassure her. "As I told you, the Ministry is still trying its best to talk to the centaurs, to reach a compromise."

She said nothing to that, keeping silent and looking down. The truth was, she had already lost hope, at least as far as reaching a compromise. One of the things she remembered all too well about the centaur race was how proud and stubborn they were. If they wanted her, they would never stop until they had her.

After about half a minute of silence, Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and looked over to Firenze. "Well, I'd better go talk to Ron. See if he can find anything about this Doncaster bloke. I'll be with him in the DSPO office if you need me. I'll be back in a little while."

With that he quietly left the room, leaving Rebecca and Firenze alone together.

"DSPO?" she asked quietly.

"His word for the office where they detect counterfeit defensive magics," explained Firenze. "It's officially called the 'Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects'. Apparently, he couldn't stand saying such a long name so often, so he thought out a shorter version. He often does that, coming up with smaller titles for the offices with long names. Everyone knows that, from what I've been told, and most call them by those names now."

"Oh."

"I find a human's need to give things such long titles one of the most peculiar traits about your race sometimes," he added, frowning.

"Mm-mm," she replied despondedly.

"Are you alright?"

She shrugged. "Not particularly." She sighed. "It's just not been the best of days for me right now. Less than an hour ago, my only worry was meeting my parents for… Oh my god! My parents!"

"What?" he said, looking at her questioningly.

"My parents, what if the herd comes after them?!" she shrieked. "To get to me!"

"If you are concerned for your family's safety, then have no fear, my friend." He held up his hand re-assuredly. "My race would never stoop so low as to commit such a dishonourable act. My herd wants you, not anyone else. They may seek out your blood relatives, to track and observe, should you go to them, but nothing more than that. We centaurs only go after those who have incurred our wrath, and any who foolishly attempt to get in our way of doing so, but we never seek out to intentionally harm innocent bystanders."

Rebecca felt her heart beat a little slower, as she sighed in relief. "You're certain?"

He looked at her bemusedly for a moment. "I think I know my own race by now, do you not think so?"

"Of course, I'm sorry." She moaned. "I'm just… I'm sorry, it's just…been a long day."

"And you have been through a lot, I understand," he told her, sympathising. "I understand also that during your time with my kind, you did not see or experience the best of us, so it's not really a surprise you would think the worst."

"I didn't mean to," she hastened to explain. "I didn't mean to sound insulting, but with everything that's happened lately…"

"I know, and I told you I understand." Firenze walked over to her. "This is definitely not the way I envisioned the two of us would ever meet again…though I must admit, I am glad."

"Me, too," she admitted, though her face was looking down, her thoughts still on her family. She then looked up. "I've just thought… Won't your herd be angry with you for working with this Ministry against them?"

Firenze sighed. "Yes and no. After that human told us where to find you, I made my position clear to them. I have since formed a close and personal bond with your race, and felt it would be treacherous to go against them, as I knew it would ultimately lead to that if my herd went ahead with their plan. However, my loyalty would always be with my herd as well. So in the end, I…"

"What?"

He sighed again. "I told them that in the end, I suppose what it comes down to is that I wouldn't fight for them by searching for and taking you, but neither would I fight against them by preventing them. In other words, if I were to learn of your existence, I wouldn't tell them a thing. But if they were to learn of it themselves, and come get you, then I wouldn't stop them."

She looked at him a little worriedly.

"I'm hoping it will never come to that," he said hastily. "But you have to understand, after you left, it took a long time before my herd came to accept me once again. Although there are still many things I disagree with them about, and despite my new place among your own people, I always long to be with my own race."

She shrugged. "I guess I can understand that. Now more than ever." Her thoughts were still on her family, so she didn't notice him come up to her, and rest his hand on her shoulder.

She looked up and found his blue eyes staring at her (she had almost forgotten what a striking blue they were).

"I have missed you," he said softly. "I wanted to tell you, your arrival in my herd, meeting you, was an important point in my life. One I never dreamed the significance of at the time."

She blinked, a little startled. "Because you helped me escape?"

He chuckled. "Partly, but mainly because you helped me separate myself from my herd. Because of that I was able to follow my own path, and make my own decisions."

"I don't understand?"

He looked over at the door, through which Harry had left mere moments ago. "I never told you about Harry Potter, did I?"

She frowned, as she tried to remember. "Harry Potter… Wait. Didn't you mention that name to me once, right after we first met? You asked me if his name or someone else's sounded familiar to me."

"Yes, that's right, but I don't believe I ever told you his significance."

"Not that I can recall, no. Is he the Head-wizard or something?"

He laughed. "No, he is a mere Auror, though from what I know of human-wizard culture, those are considered an elite group. They are a kind of guardian that tracks down and apprehends dark wizards and witches."

"Yes, he mentioned. But what about him anyway?"

"Harry Potter is…" Firenze paused, while shifting his weight. "I am not sure what the correct word is for him in human language, but his name is known and valued by men and creatures of the forest. His birth was foreseen, and his destiny foretold him one day vanquishing the one they call Voldemort."

She raised her eyebrows. "What, so he's like the wizard messiah?"

"I don't know the meaning of that word, but he is revered by many, and even more praise him for the death of the dark one."

"What's that got to do with you and me, though?"

"Before I met you, I had met Harry Potter only once, not long after he first came to the wizarding world. He was but a boy of 11 years, and the dark wizard had tried to take his life whilst he had been walking in our forest. I saved him by driving the dark one away, and then carried the boy to safety on my back. For that, my herd scolded me, declaring me a disgrace and a mockery to all that is centaur, for allowing a human to ride my back like a common mule, and for going against the heavens."

"The heavens?"

"As you know, we centaurs watch and map the stars, and from what we find we are able to determine certain future events. However, what we find we are forbidden to share with any outsiders."

"Why?"

"Long ago, when our kind first realised the importance of the stars, we swore never to set ourselves against the heavens, to intervene in fate."

"But…" She frowned. "Didn't you do that already, when you took me and read my future?"

He shook his head. "You were a special case. We read your future, but saw two possibilities, one of which was with us, so in that case we allowed ourselves to intervene. But in most futures we foresee, we are sworn never to interfere. We simply allow the thread of fate to unwind itself."

"Long ago," he continued, "the stars told us about Harry Potter, his destiny, and all that was to come. And like all other prophecies, we swore not to intervene. I myself took that oath, yet…by chance, I found him in our forest, a mere child, face to face with one of the most evil wizards ever known. I could not allow myself to stand back and do nothing, so I helped."

"And for that your people were angry with you?" she said, amazed.

He nodded. "To be honest, I am unsure what they were most angry with me about…whether it was going against our traditions by defying fate, or allowing Harry Potter to ride on my back."

"Why did you?"

"Like I said, I couldn't just stand back and leave a child in danger. Besides, the stars and planets can sometimes be read wrongly. Even centaurs can sometimes make mistakes."

"I still don't see what that has to do with me, though?"

"When I saved Harry Potter, I did so because my conscience wouldn't let me turn my back. There hasn't been a day or night that I have regretted my decision, let me make that clear, but when my herd found out and begrudged me so, I felt it would be better that I submit to my race's traditions."

"You mean stand back, just let whatever was going to happen, happen?"

He nodded. "That, I'm ashamed to say, was partly the reason why I refused to help you at first. Although there are many traditions of my race that I am still committed to, I am resolved now to never stand by and allow an innocent soul to suffer. Not when there is something that can be done about it. You taught me that when I helped you to freedom. I also learned that sometimes what the stars tell us, does not have to be absolute."

He sighed, seemingly in regret. "The rest of my herd, though, did not believe this, and many still do not. They are solely committed to the Fates. When I realised this, I chose to stand out by myself, which was why when I decided to go teach at the wizard's school Hogwarts, my herd exiled me…"

"Sorry, what?!" Her eyes widened. "They _exiled_ you?!"

"Yes. Recall that my herd were absolutely against having any more human contact than was necessary. So when they learned that I intended to go teach human foals at a human establishment… Well, let's just say they were less than pleased."

"That…must have been terrible for you," she said sympathetically. She remembered what it had been like for her, being stuck as the only human among the centaur herd, and wondered how Firenze had coped being the only one of his kind at a school full of humans.

"It all worked out well in the end," he assured her. "When the dark wizard led his forces in the final battle, I fought with Harry Potter, and in the end, my herd fought also. During the battle, they watched as the humans, what they had always thought of as lower creatures, fought and sacrificed for their freedom. When the battle ended, they had no choice but to admit their mistake in judging your race."

"That's very nice, but…I'm hardly the cause of it all."

"To me you are," he said, as he took her hands in his. "By helping you, I helped myself, which led to me helping both your kind, the wizards and my own."

She smiled, blushing a little. "Thank you, Firenze."

They stood like that for a few minutes, neither realising the amount of time that lapsed, until a knock on the door sounded.

"Hello, may I come in?" a female voice said.

Firenze removed his hands from hers, and called out, "Yes". A moment later, a small middle-aged woman with bright blonde hair, deep green eyes and a pale purple robe, walked in. She regarded Firenze for a second, as though sizing him up.

Rebecca supposed she couldn't blame her for that, as Harry had told her that Firenze was essentially the first centaur that had ever used the Liaison Office.

The woman stared hard at him, though, almost as if she were afraid of him.

"Miss Leicester, forgive me, but Mr. Potter sent me to bring you. He has some questions," she said.

Firenze looked as though he were about to follow them out, but the moment he moved, the woman practically shrieked out, "Oh no, Mr. Firenze! You can stay here and wait. They only have a few questions, so she should be back before long."

He regarded the woman for a while, his eyes peering at her closely.

"It's alright, Firenze," Rebecca told him. "I'll be fine."

He spared her a glance, but looked all the more closer at the new witch, until finally he nodded. "I will await you here then, my Rebecca," he said to her.

Rebecca smiled, and gave a short wave goodbye to him.

After she had left, Firenze had given another frown, as he turned to look at some of the paintings decorating the office. They were all unsurprising of centaurs. One was a theme on the historical Treaty made between the wizards and the centaurs over a thousand years ago, and another showed them fighting Voldemort and his forces at Hogwarts.

He gazed at the last painting thoughtfully, though his thoughts were not on it. They were on his friend. Although he knew Harry Potter was being optimistic, he also believed he was being slightly delusional. The Boy-Who-Lived, now a man, still had hopes that they would be able to reach a compromise with his herd over Rebecca.

Harry may have spent some time with the centaurs as a boy, and read of them at school, but he knew very little about the centaur race in general. Firenze knew all too well that his herd would never settle for anything other than Miss Leicester being handed over to them unconditionally, which was obviously something Harry nor his leaders would never agree to. With that in mind, war between the centaur race and the Ministry was becoming more and more likely every day.

Firenze sighed. He had spent literally every second searching and hoping for a way out of all this; ever since the moment that damn man had come to the forest and told his herd where Rebecca was residing. But so far, his hope was dwindling.

He didn't know how much time had passed while he was standing there, but after a while the door opened, and Harry walked in with his friend, the ginger-headed male with the high voice, Ron Weasley.

"Firenze," Ron greeted amiably. "Good to see you again."

Firenze merely nodded, acknowledging him. "Have you completed your questioning then?"

The two looked at him curiously.

"We've gone over each other's reports if that's what you mean," said Ron.

"We just came to tell Rebecca that we've arranged some temporary accommodations for her, and err…" Harry paused, as he surveyed the room. "Where is Miss Leicester by the way?"

Firenze's face grew alarmed. "She just left with a woman, claiming that you sent her to bring Rebecca to you, to answer some questions."

Harry and Ron both went pale.

"I did no such thing," said Harry.

Firenze gave a loud neigh of anger, and immediately galloped past the two young wizards, his hooves echoing loudly in his wake.

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Rebecca had once more reached the main lobby of the Ministry. It was more crowded now than it had been when Mr. Potter had brought her there, as dozens of robed men and women were hustling about, doing their business. As she and the witch, who apparently was taking her to see that Harry Potter chap again, got off the elevator, she looked over at the fountain, as they approached it.

She smiled, once again looking at the way the centaur statue looked as if it were practically worshipping the wizard statue, wondering how Firenze had reacted when he first saw it.

"Hem-hem, make haste, Miss Leicester," the woman said timidly. "We don't want to keep Mr. Potter waiting, do we?"

"Mm? Oh, yeah." She hurried to keep up with the woman. She was small but fast.

'Guess they have a tight schedule with everything,' she thought.

"Mr. Potter is besieged with cases today," the woman told her, as though reading her mind. "He is hard-pressed for time, so we will need to take a shortcut to his office, to save time."

Rebecca was about to nod, when something made her pause. "His office?" she said. "I thought he had gone to that…office where they go after fake defensive magics?"

"Yes, but he had some other work to finish, and a quiet office is a better place to answer questions than a crowded one."

The woman did not act like she was lying, and she didn't talk like she was trying to hide something, but… Maybe it was paranoia from all that she had gone through that day, or perhaps some second sense that she had developed, but whatever the reason, Rebecca felt nervous.

She also didn't like the way they seemed to be heading toward the area where all those empty fireplaces that had people jumping out of them in green flames were.

"By the way," she added, "what is the name of that office again? The one where they go after those fake magics?"

"The Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects," the woman answered promptly. The way she said it, though, it sounded like she was reciting from a handbook.

"Yes, it's ever such a long name, isn't it. You'd think they would come up with a shorter version."

"Yes, wouldn't you," she replied, not looking directly at her, but said nothing else.

Alarms started going off in Rebecca's head.

"Actually, I think I need to go back to Firenze. I've just remembered something that Aonghus, the other centaur, said that might be important. Excuse me." She turned to go, only for the woman to reach out and grasp her arm.

"Mr. Potter can listen to anything you have to say," she said in a low voice. "He is the Auror after all." Her tone sounded sweet, like someone's favourite aunt, yet there was an underlying tone to it that was near poisonous. It was like a combination of Mary Poppins and Freddy Krueger.

"No, thank you," said Rebecca, trying to pull her arm out of her grasp, only to find her grip tightening. "I need it to be Firenze. Please let go of me."

"Please forgive me, Miss Leicester," the woman said in a honey voice, as she pulled her up to her side, "but we really have to be going."

"Let go of me right…ow!" She hissed in pain, as her fingers were pulled backwards to her knuckles, nearly making them break.

"Stay calm, be quiet, and all this will work out swimmingly," the woman told her calmly. Rebecca noticed that she seemed to be holding something under one of her robes' sleeves, and guessed it to be her wand, as it roughly poked into her ribcage.

"Why are you…?" she started to ask, only to wince again when her fingers were pulled back further.

"Just come with me, and all will be well again."

Rebecca could do nothing except what she was told, as she was forcibly led to the fireplaces.

Fortunately, they had barely made several steps before a loud neighing sound echoed throughout the whole lobby, followed by the fast clip-clopping noise of a horse's hooves.

This sound seemed to melt the smile straight off the woman's face, as she snapped her head to the right, her eyes widening in terror at the sight of Firenze galloping towards them. Rebecca couldn't blame her for that, as the sight of a huge centaur charging toward you, with a ferocious expression on his face no less, was absolutely terrifying.

Her would-be kidnapper panicked, as she withdrew her wand from her sleeve. There was a small sparkle, as light reflected off something on the woman's wand, before she began shouting what obviously had to be spells at the charging centaur.

"Stupefy! Incarcerous!"

The first spell seemed to fire a small bolt of red light at Firenze, but he was quick to evade it. The second one, however, caused long ropes to appear out of nowhere, as they sprang to life and tried to tangle themselves around Firenze's legs.

He leaped over the ropes, managing to stay out of their reach, but it was as though they were alive, as they leaped and curved their way over to him, wrapping themselves around his back-legs, like a nest of snakes.

To make matters worse, the rest of the hallway was now filled with hysterical wizards and witches, who were pointing and practically screaming at the lone centaur in their midst.

"_A Centaur!" _

"_They're attacking even here now!" _

"_Someone stop the thing!"_

The last comment came from the woman herself, as she struggled to pull Rebecca with her to the fireplaces. She hadn't taken her eyes off Firenze the whole time, apparently finding him more frightening than anything else.

Luckily, only a few of the wizards took her advice, as most of them were still too shocked at seeing a real live centaur, or perhaps because they already knew of him since he had been at the Ministry for a while now. But a few of them still raised their wands, intending to do harm.

"_No, stop!"_ a voice cried out, and Rebecca looked over to see Harry and a ginger-headed man by his side, racing over to them from the distance.

"_He's on our side! Get __**her**__!" _He pointed to Rebecca and the purple robed witch.

Rebecca used this opportunity, and slammed herself into the woman's side, making her lose her grip on her, and drop her wand. The moment she did this, the ropes around Firenze immediately stopped what they were doing, and dropped to the floor, lifeless. A second later, they seemingly dissolved into puffs of smoke, disappearing from sight.

Cursing under her breath, the woman then reached down, grabbed her wand, turned and raced over to one of the fireplaces.

"Stop her!" Harry yelled.

A few other wizards finally seemed to catch on, and raced to apprehend her, but could not reach her before she pushed one witch to the side, jumped into a fireplace, and vanished in a blaze of green flames.

"Get after her!" Harry ordered.

"I'll go, too!" the ginger-headed male said, as he ran past them, hurrying after the other two wizards who each took the same fireplace the woman had used, to give chase.

Rebecca tried to steady her breathing, as she stumbled over to the fountain, sitting on its edge. A moment later, Firenze was by her side.

"Are you alright?" he asked urgently, taking her in his arms. She was too shocked by her second attempted kidnapping to notice.

"Yeah…I'm fine…" she said slowly. "Twice in one day…who knew?"

Harry came hurrying up to them, asking just as urgently, "Are you alright, Miss Leicester?"

She nodded.

"Did you know that woman? Have you ever seen her before?"

She shook her head. "I've never seen her."

"I have never seen her either, and it is doubtful that Rebecca would know any of the witches here or anywhere, Harry Potter," Firenze noted. His tone was mild, yet there was a slight edge to it, almost as though he were annoyed or in angst. "She has never had any contact with any witches before, so why should she know that particular one?"

Harry spared him a quick glance before answering. "She may not have known she was a witch before today. I only asked because maybe she could have seen her somewhere else, such as on her road or near her home. We can't rule out any possibility."

Firenze looked at him shortly, and then gave a small nod, but said nothing.

Harry then looked back to her. "What happened?"

She swallowed. "She said you had sent her to bring me to you, because you wanted to ask some more questions. We had reached here when she said we were going to your office. I remembered that you had said you were going to that DSPO place, and when I asked her about it, she said you had gone back to your office."

"How did you know she was lying?"

"When I asked about DSPO, she referred to it by its full name. I then made a remark about it being such a long name, and that they should come up with a shorter version for it. All she said to that was _yes, wouldn't you_. And Firenze had told me just recently that you had come up with shorter names for a lot of the offices, and everyone knew about them…except _she_ didn't."

Harry smirked. "Clever," he said. "Very clever. And you're right, I've been making up names for a lot of offices for a while now, which tells us something at least."

"What?" She looked up at him.

"Whoever this woman is, she didn't know about the short names, which are common knowledge now. That means she can't have been in the Ministry for very long for her not to have known that."

A second later, the ginger-haired gentleman emerged from the same fireplace he had jumped into moments before, dusting himself off. He had a vicious scowl on his face that Rebecca didn't like, as it could only mean one thing, which he soon confirmed.

"Lost her!" he said, practically snarling under his breath.

Rebecca gave a low moan, and Firenze held her closer to him.

"What happened?" asked Harry. "Where did you end up at, Ron?"

"Knockturn Alley," the man, whose name was apparently Ron, answered. "At a small shop, not far from Borgin and Burkes. Gave the shopkeeper a nasty turn, I can tell you, when we all blew out of her fireplace."

"What happened to the woman?"

Ron scowled again. "Like I said, we just lost her! When we got out of the fireplace, we found her robe left discarded on the floor of the shop. The shopkeeper said the woman had just appeared, as we did, threw her robe off, and then ran out the door. We caught sight of her just as she turned the corner outside, but when we got there…she was gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"Like I said. One moment she was running around the corner, she was out of our sight for less than a few seconds, and the next she was gone, totally disappeared."

Harry frowned. "Could she have Apparated?"

"I thought that, but…I didn't hear any signs of Apparition. It was all as quiet as a mouse. The only people on that street were a couple of shopkeepers at their stalls, and a few customers. No one saw anything, though. Not that they were looking mind you, as they were all busy with their own things."

Apparition was one of the wizarding world's most favoured means of travel. It allowed a witch or wizard to travel from one place to another instantly. It was very difficult to master, dangerous if done incorrectly, and apparently made the traveller nauseous. Getting a licence to Apparate was a trial in itself, but it was still the fastest transportation there was.

To a witness, someone who Apparated looked as though they had just vanished into thin air, while at the same time emitting a noise, which varied from a faint pop to a loud crack.

"Was there anywhere she could have escaped to, like another shop or down a street?" said Harry.

Ron shook his head. "There were some more streets higher up, but there's no way she would have had enough time to get up there. No one saw anything, and the shopkeepers outside said that no one new had been into their shops in at least the last half-hour or so. And we did check them. The wizards I went with are still there, checking, but I doubt they'll find anything."

Harry swore. "Damn it!"

"No kidding," Ron agreed.

Harry then looked over to Rebecca, and noticed her eyeing Ron carefully. "Oh, Miss Leicester, this is my friend and fellow Auror, Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Rebecca Leicester, the girl I was telling you about."

Ron smiled at her, and she returned a faint one of her own in response.

"Firenze speaks highly of you," he said graciously. "And my father has always thought the same about you muggles. He'd love to talk to you sometime."

She gave him a short look. "Err, okay."

"Firenze," added Harry, "maybe you'd better take Miss Leicester back to the Liaison Office for now? Me and Ron will both be up in a little while, once we've seen to those wizards and everything down here."

The centaur nodded, and gently helped her up to her feet, guiding her back to the Centaur Liaison Office. When they were gone, Harry looked back to his friend.

"Sooo, Harry me pal, tell me…just how screwed are we?" said Ron with bitter humour.

Harry snorted. "We're right up there, Ron, all the way."

"Surely it can't be all that bad?"

He sighed. "It's worse. When I left Miss Leicester and Firenze to go see you, I overheard some more reports come in. Two centaurs were seen by muggles, and two of those muggles got away before our Aurors could modify their memories."

"Bugger!" Ron exclaimed, and immediately silenced, smiling sheepishly at a few of the crowd who were looking curiously at him. "Don't they have any clue who the guys were?"

"The Aurors didn't get a chance. I doubt the muggles will go to the press…at least, not without the risk of sounding like a bunch of complete loons. I mean, who'd believe a centaur was in the middle of London city. But the ugly truth is…" He paused.

"What?" asked Ron.

Harry sighed again. "This isn't the only mishap today. The centaurs are getting more and more bold, and less careful. So many of them are nearly getting spotted by muggles, I'm actually amazed that we're not even more busy than we are, trying to cover up their mess."

"You kidding?" said Ron with mild amazement. "I've barely been back home in days."

"The rate we're going, you'll be lucky to go home in weeks." Harry moaned. "I spoke to Kingsley early this morning." (Kingsley was the current Minister of Magic, and a good friend of theirs.)

Ron looked at him reservedly. "What did he say?" he asked finally.

Harry looked back at him with a sad look in his eyes. "The Prime Minister is upset at all the centaur sightings, and is demanding that we take action. He's afraid that the public might be in danger. Kingsley has managed to calm him for now, but…with the centaurs the way they are, we're gonna be left with no choice but to..."

Ron didn't look surprised, but that was to be expected, as they had all been dreading this for ages now.

"The Ministry is gonna declare war on the centaurs," he finished Harry's sentence.

Harry nodded. "Kingsley says he is still trying to talk with Magorian, but so far all his attempts at conversation have been thoroughly ignored. He wants Miss Leicester, full stop, nothing else. Kingsley obviously won't give her, which leaves us all..."

"Up the sky without a broomstick." Ron groaned.

Harry couldn't help but nod his agreement.

"Even worse than that," he said, looking at his friend sadly. "I almost wish we were fighting Voldemort again. At least with him we knew who the bad guys were, and that they truly were bad. With the centaurs, though… They fought with us, for Merlin's sake! They were our allies, our friends, and now…"

"Things change, Harry. The centaurs have always been a wild and dangerous race, even in the best of times. Hagrid told us that once, remember?"

"This isn't like when we battling Death Eaters, Ron. The centaurs are not evil, not really. None of us are fully recovered from the last war to fight anyone, and if it does come to that, there's going to be even more casualties on either side. And worse, with all our resources stretched beyond the limit, we may not be able to conceal our world from muggles anymore."

Ron looked at him, nervous. "You mean…?"

He nodded. "As well as having to deal with a second war, we may also have to deal with muggles finally finding out about us wizards. And if that happens, it will undoubtedly lead to a panic, and total chaos across Britain."

**To Be Continued…**


	5. Chapter 4

**_CHAPTER 4_**

_**Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!**_

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**The Burrow: **

A blaze of emerald flames sprang up from the hearth of the Weasley's home, and Rebecca stumbled out, dropping to the floor. She gasped for breath, trying to calm her heart down.

After Harry and Ron (they had insisted on her calling them by their first names) had taken all the information they could get out of her, concerning the intruder, they had discussed what was to be done with her. They obviously couldn't let her go home, as the Centaurs might have learned where she lived by now.

In the end, Ron had suggested her coming to temporarily live with him and his family, as he was sure they wouldn't object. In fact, he said he was positive that his father would be absolutely delighted to jump at the chance. Rebecca had been fine with that, though she would have preferred coming by bus, instead of the _Flu_ Network, or whatever it was called. It had been such a weird experience…weird but exciting.

Firenze hadn't been able to come with her, as he was too big to get into the fireplace, but they had arranged for a wizard to Apparate him as soon as possible. She didn't know what Apparating was, but they said it was as fast as the Floo Network.

They had guided her to one of the fireplaces in the Atrium, and gave her some powder, which was supposed to activate the magic that would transport her to where she wanted to go (magic still confused her greatly). She had done as instructed, tossed the powder, said "The Burrow", and the next thing she knew, it was like she was flying at light-speed. It didn't last long, barely a second, but it certainly left her heart pounding like a drum. And suddenly she was here, lying on the floor of somebody's house.

"Goodness!" a woman's voice cried out. "Who are you?"

Rebecca looked up to see a short middle-aged woman, with hair as ginger as Ron Weasleys, a little plump, but with a kind face and warm brown eyes looking right at her.

"Err, hello," she greeted her, standing up. "Sorry, Ron Weasley said I could come here. My name's Rebecca, Rebecca Leicester."

"Oh, did he?" The woman helped her up, and looked her over. "Well, I'm Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother. Are you alright?"

"Yes, it's the first time I've ever used that flu thing."

"_Floo_ Network, dear. Oh, are you Muggle-born? Only, forgive me for saying so, but you seem a bit old for using the Floo for the first time."

Rebecca shrugged. "I am a Muggle, if that's what you mean?"

Mrs. Weasley blinked. "A Muggle?" she said interestedly.

Before anyone could say anything more, the fireplace blazed up again in green flames, and a second later Harry came stepping out.

"Hi, all," he greeted them both.

"Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley, embracing him fondly. "What a surprise! Ginny's not here, though."

"That's okay. I'm not here to see her today." He indicated Rebecca. "I take it you've been introduced to Miss Leicester?"

"Yes? She says she's a Muggle?"

"Yeah. It's a long story. I'll explain in a bit." He looked over to Rebecca. "Ron's with Firenze. He can't Apparate him, so he'll stay with him until they can get a wizard who can."

Harry had insisted upon staying with her, as he was officially the one responsible for her safety, though he wouldn't be surprised if Firenze contested that remark.

Rebecca nodded thankfully.

He turned back to Ron's mother. "Can Miss Leicester stay here a while? I'll explain everything, but it's important that we keep her safe."

"Safe? Oh, yes, of course. She's more than welcome."

"Great." He turned back to her. "Miss Leicester…"

"Rebecca."

"Huh?"

"It's Rebecca. You may as well call me by my first name now. I mean, you've already saved my life once or twice, so I think we're past the last name basis."

He smiled. "As you like…Rebecca. Perhaps you'd like to make yourself comfortable here, while I talk with Mrs..."

"And that's Molly to you, too, Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley with an exasperated tone. "I've already told you a million times. After everything we've been through, I think we've earned that right. We've even had your and Hermione's pictures put on both of the clocks in the living room and kitchen. They're right by Ron, where George and Fred…" She suddenly stopped, and seemed to choke back a sob for some reason.

Harry reached out his hand and squeezed her shoulder. "I know," he said softly. "Ron told me. And I'm honoured, more than I can say. Though I wish you hadn't. I don't feel I have the right."

Rebecca felt a little uneasy then. She didn't know for certain, but it was just the way they spoke, the sadness in their voices, and in Molly's face, as they spoke this Fred's name, that whoever he was, he was no longer with them.

"You do!" Molly insisted. "You are family, and have been for years, and I know Fred would be honoured if you would. Besides…" She then had an almost wicked glint in her eye. "I almost feel like we're _officially_ family…or so Ginny says."

Harry blushed brightly then, to Rebecca's amusement. She guessed that whoever this Ginny was, she was someone special to him.

"Anyway!" he said quickly. "Rebecca, why don't you sit down, and me and Molly will get back to you in a bit."

"Yes, I'll bring you some tea in a short while, dear," added Molly.

She smiled. "Thank you, that would be delightful."

"My, what a polite young lady. Please make yourself at home."

Rebecca said, "Thank you," again, as Molly and Harry went into one of the adjacent rooms, while she had a look around. She was in what was obviously the living room. It was nothing as grand as what she was used to, but it was cosy nonetheless, with a sofa and armchairs, and the large fireplace she had just come out of, giving it a homely feel.

One thing she immediately noticed was a large Grandfather clock, which she supposed was what Mrs. Weasley had been referring to (she hadn't been told she could call Molly by her first name yet, and had been raised never to do so unless the person said it was okay). It was a most curious thing indeed, for rather than the usual numbers a clock usually has, there were written words on it, such as "home," "work," "travelling," "lost," "hospital," "prison," and "mortal peril".

The last three made her pause. _Hospital, prison and Mortal Peril?_ Were all their family in the police/Aurors?!

There were ten hands on the clock, which each had a small photograph on the end of it. She recognised Ron, Harry and Mrs. Weasley on three of them, and guessed the rest were obviously the family. Aside from Harry and a girl about his age, whose photos were right next to Rons', all of the people in them had red hair. As she looked closer, she noticed to her shock that the photos were moving, as though alive.

Her first thought was holograms, until she realised that a society based in magic wouldn't have any need for such things.

As she looked closer, she noticed that although there were ten hands on the clock, there were eleven photos, but only ten of them were in colour and moving. One of the hands had two photos on the end of it, both which she first thought were of the same young man, except one was in colour and moving, but he bore a sombre expression, while the other was more humorous, but he was in black and white, and was not moving at all, like a regular picture.

That was when she realised that the two had to be separate photos, of twins, and the black and white lifeless one had to be the person that Harry and Mrs. Weasley were talking about…Fred, the one she guessed to be no longer living.

She looked closer. The photo she guessed was Fred looked as though he were barely out of his teens, while his brother looked slightly older now, with longer hair. That told her that Fred must have died a year or so ago, as his brother didn't look that much older.

'Maybe he was a causality in that war Harry and Firenze were talking about?' she thought. She wondered if she could ask them about it, but then thought better of it, as it seemed entirely in bad taste. Mrs. Weasley was still obviously very much upset about it, and Harry as well, it seemed.

Deciding to forget about it, she looked at the rest of the pictures, most of which were under the written caption "Work", except for Harry and Mrs. Weasleys', which were under "Home".

After a few moments, something bumped into the side of her head, and when she turned to look…she yelped in surprise. There, floating in mid-air, was a small, flowery-patterned cup and saucer, with something steaming inside of it.

"Sorry!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called out from the other room. "It's just the tea, dear!"

"Oh, err…thank you," Rebecca hesitantly replied, and cautiously took the teacup and saucer. It's weight carefully dropped into her hand, as it lost its weightlessness and stopped floating.

She carried it with her to one of the armchairs, taking a seat and a sip. She sighed in bliss, allowing the cup's hot brew to steady her nerves.

The sound of Harry and Mrs. Weasley's voices carried on from the other room, but she paid them no heed. Her thoughts were still back on at the Ministry, her attempted kidnapping, and any information she might have forgotten. But no matter how hard she thought, she could remember nothing else.

And what she had brought up had been less than useless.

0000000000

**Ministry of Magic; **

**Centaur Liaison Office; **

**One Hour Ago:**

Firenze had guided her back up to the Liaison office, where they had awaited Harry and Ron to return. Once they did, an hour later, they had immediately started questioning her about the unknown witch, but alas there was nothing she could tell them.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who she was," said Rebecca, exasperated. "I'd never seen her before today."

Ron and Harry both frowned, equally exasperated. Firenze just stood off to the sides, watching them all silently, ready to comfort Rebecca if needed.

"This just gets more and more confusing," said Harry. "I just got word that your former pilot, John Doncaster, currently lives in Wales. He only comes up to London once every while to visit family. The last time he came up was over three months ago. He hasn't been back since."

"He could have sneaked back to London?" said Ron.

Harry shook his head. "He's got a wife and kids in Wales. They can vouch for his presence there, as well as several others who saw him around the village he lives in. Whoever Rebecca saw was obviously not John Doncaster."

Rebecca looked up from the chair she was sitting at, staring indignantly at them. "It was John Doncaster!" she insisted. "I sat and had tea with him for heaven's sake for a good few minutes! I don't make a point of doing that with total strangers, you know. And I can tell the difference between someone I know and someone who bears a close resemblance."

Firenze gently squeezed her shoulder, to calm her.

Harry meanwhile held his hand up. "You misunderstand me, Rebecca. What I meant was, the person you saw was obviously not the _real_ John Doncaster, but someone who was impersonating him."

"Impersonating?" she looked blankly at him. "If that were true, this guy would have to have a face of clay. I'd swear it was Doncaster I was talking to."

"Polyjuice Potion?" deduced Ron.

"I thought so, too. It makes sense, and it's the only explanation."

Rebecca glared at them both. "_What_," she snapped, "the hell is _Polyjuice Potion_?!"

Ron winced a little. "Sorry, Miss Leicester."

"We keep forgetting you're not a witch," added Harry. "You see, all this knowledge is pretty common to us and everyday magical folk."

"Whatever! So what is it?!"

"Polyjuice Potion is a magically brewed elixir that when drunk, grants a person a short time to appear as someone else," he explained.

She blinked. "What? You mean, like magical plastic surgery?"

Harry laughed when he saw the curious look on Firenze, and the honest confusion on Ron's. "Not quite. Polyjuice Potion doesn't just give you something like a new nose. It gives you a whole new appearance, namely someone else's. Say if I were to get you some, and then put a bit of Pamela Anderson's hair in it. The moment you drunk the stuff, you would change and look exactly like her."

"Yeah, height, weight, boobs an all," added Ron. At Harry's curious look, he shrugged. "Dad once brought a Muggle magazine home with him. It had an article of Pamela Anderson in it. Fred and George sneaked it upstairs with them, and I had a quick read."

She blushed, but couldn't stop feeling amazed. "Can all witches and wizards do this?"

"Oh yeah," said Harry. "Anyone who's got the right ingredients, knows how to make it properly, and got a sample of whoever they wanna look like."

"Anyone at all?"

He nodded. "But even if they have got all that, there are still setbacks."

"Take it from us on this." muttered Ron, but shut up at Harry's sharp look.

"Although Polyjuice does make you look like whoever, its effects aren't permanent. It only lasts about an hour at most, unless you keep drinking some more. And even when you are under its effects, there are still some things that it doesn't emulate, such as your voice. Plus, it doesn't work on any other creatures besides humans, and doesn't make you look like anything other than another human."

Ron sniggered. "One time we all had to look like Harry, so a large group of us took some Polyjuice to take on his form. One of them was my girlfriend. Can't tell you how funny it was, seeing someone with Harry's face talking with a girl's voice."

Harry frowned at him. "Even funnier than seeing you looking like Crabbe?"

"Ha-ha, Harry." His friend sneered at him.

"But it does raise some interesting possibilities." Harry adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "Rebecca, you said so yourself that Mr Doncaster wasn't acting like you remembered. That he was acting slightly…out of sorts?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Something like that, yeah."

Harry went to kneel in front of her. "Rebecca, think carefully. I want you to think back to when you met the man you thought was Mr Doncaster. Don't focus on his face, but on his personality, his attitude, what you said seemed so unlike him. Then I want you to compare those attributes of his to the woman who just tried to take you. Tell me what similarities you notice, if any?"

Rebecca frowned, as she closed her eyes, attempting to concentrate.

"Take your time. Just let it all come flowing into your mind," he added.

She cast her mind back to the café a week ago. She remembered Doncaster, or whoever he was, sitting at the table with her and Chloe. She remembered the way he had dragged himself around, the way he talked, like a woman, and…

"Hem-hem," she suddenly said.

"Pardon?"

"Hem-hem," she repeated. "Doncaster and the woman. They both went hem-hem. It was like a small cough, like when you're trying to get someone's attention. That's the only thing I can really recall except…"

"Yes?"

She crouched a little uncomfortably. "Well, both of them talked like they were really sweet people. You'd think you were talking to someone's raggedy aunt or something, but…I don't know. There was just something about their tone that I didn't like."

"Like what?" asked Ron.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It was… You know Venus Flytraps? Those plants that catch insects by mimicking pheromones? It was kind of like that. Their tones were overly sweet, and yet there was a hint of…"

"Danger?" offered Harry.

"Something like that, I guess. I'm sorry, I wish I could be more helpful, but aside from that little cough, I don't know anything."

"It's alright. It'll come to you eventually."

"You know who that description reminds me of?" Ron suddenly interrupted. "That little cough, the sweet attitude with the hint of danger…reminds me an awful lot of old toad-face."

Harry visibly shuddered, while Rebecca just looked at him in confusion. "Who?" she asked.

"Dolores Umbridge, an old teacher of ours," said Harry bitterly. "Correction, an old teacher, headmistress, inquisitor, and most heartless bitch that ever lived!"

"She wasn't an official supporter of You Know…the guy we were all fighting against," Ron explained, also bitterly. "But she sure was foul enough to be one. She had a racist hatred for all half-breeds, and at one time, while the Ministry were all under the bad guy's control, she inadvertently but willingly did his dirty work by going after all muggle-borns. Any who had even a trace of muggle blood in them, she accused them of stealing their magic from pureblooded witches and wizards, and made them go through a trial and everything. Those who lost, and they usually did, were tortured mercilessly, and then sent to prison…a lot of them were never heard from again. And even the ones who did make it out were left severely emotionally damaged."

He swore beneath his breath. "I know you Muggles have overactive imaginations when it comes to witches, always describing them as being the bad guys and all. Usually that's not true, as most witches are just as good or bad as you Muggles, but with Umbridge…she was all that and worse, without a doubt."

Rebecca shuddered. "Sounds like a dreadful woman."

"Even worse," mumbled Harry, as he clenched his right hand, rubbing the back of it unconsciously. Rebecca noticed there appeared to be a mark there, like a white scar, but it was too faint for her to see clearly. It almost looked like lettering?

"Is there any chance she could be involved in this?" she asked.

Both men shook their heads.

"Umbridge was sentenced to life in Azkaban," said Ron, "for crimes committed against Muggle-borns. She died a few months later."

"Azkaban?"

"Wizards prison," supplied Harry helpfully.

"She got off lucky if you ask me," grumbled Ron. "Only spent a few months in that wretched prison, before she kicked the bucket. It didn't even have any Dementors in it when she got there. Merlin knows how many poor souls she tortured relentlessly, just because they had Muggle blood in them. If there's any justice in this world or the next, I hope she's currently sitting on a particularly hot pile of coals, getting that pork belly of hers stabbed with countless pitchforks!"

"Ron," said Harry warningly, indicating Rebecca who was staring at Ron.

"Oh…yeah…sorry," Ron apologised. "But she really was a nasty piece of work, Miss Leicester. Take our word for it."

"Is there anything else you can recall about either of them, or anything about just Doncaster?" asked Harry.

Rebecca frowned. "He seemed to have a love for sugar…oh, and cats."

"Cats?"

"Yeah, there was this stray cat at our table at the cafe. Doncaster really went all crazy, fussing it and everything. You'd almost think he was going to marry it or something."

A strange look came over Harry's face, as his skin paled slightly.

"Mr. Potter?" she asked worriedly.

"Mate?" added Ron, also looking worried on him.

Harry shook his head. "It's nothing. It's just that…Umbridge was a lover for cats. You remember, Ron? She had all those kitten plates in her offices."

Ron grimaced. "How could I forget? Every time I went in, it was like walking into a cattery. I can still hear those blasted meows."

He then looked alarmed at his friend. "Hang on, Harry, you don't think…?"

Harry just shrugged. "I'm not thinking anything, I'm just considering."

"Considering what?" Rebecca asked.

"That this man Doncaster, the unknown witch and Dolores Umbridge might be one and the same," Firenze answered for her calmly, speaking for the first time since arriving back at the office, nearly making her jump.

She looked at him startled. "But I thought you said she was dead?"

"That's right." said Ron insistently.

"It wouldn't be the first time that someone escaped from Azkaban by faking their own death," added Harry thoughtfully. "Don't forget Barty Grouch Jr, and he did it while the Dementors were still there."

"Yeah, but he had help, remember," said Ron. "His mum chose to go in his place because she was dying, and his dad was the one who smuggled her in, and then got him out. Even without the Dementors at Azkaban anymore, there's no way Umbridge could pull it off without help, and who'd be mad enough to help her?"

"Yeah, I guess." Harry frowned, chewing his lower lip.

"Anyway," Ron said finally, "we've gone over everything so far. Unless there's anything more you can tell us, Miss Leicester, I think we'd better get you somewhere safe."

"And where would that be?" Rebecca asked, looking at him. "I thought I couldn't go home yet?"

"You can't," Harry confirmed. "We have to assume that the Centaurs now know where your home address is. I've already sent some Aurors there to keep an eye out for them, but with all the Centaur sightings we've had, we're short staffed as it is."

"So where am I going to go then?" she asked hesitantly.

Harry smiled. "Ron here has been kind enough to offer you a place at his family's home. They'll put you up until all this is sorted."

"And just _when_ will that be?" Rebecca gazed hard at them both.

The two of them didn't say anything, and just gave each other a worried look.

Rebecca felt Firenze's hand again, gently rubbing her back soothingly.

"It will take as long as it has to, my Rebecca," he said. "I'm sure Harry Potter and Ron Weasley will do all that is in their power to help."

"Yeah," she muttered bitterly, "but will it be enough to stop a war?"

0000000000

**The Burrow; Present:**

Harry and Mrs. Weasley had been talking now for several minutes, so long that the teacup in Rebecca's hand was now empty.

Rebecca had stayed where she was, idly checking out the room, and when she had grown to the point of knowing every nook and cranny of it; she then took a look out the window.

The window she was gazing through looked out onto a small yard in the front of the house. The garden seemed fairly typical, but there was a splendid view beyond it. Fields and hills surrounded the house, which obviously meant they had to be somewhere in the countryside. The yard itself had a chicken coop, from where she could hear the distinctive sounds of clucking, and a large garage to the side.

It was a very peaceful and quaint country-house, it seemed, which was almost disappointing to her, considering all the strangeness she had encountered today. She had been expecting something more from a wizard's home.

After taking a few moments to admire the view of the country, she walked to the back of the house, to see if the back garden had more to offer her.

She wasn't disappointed.

The moment she looked through the window at the back of the house, she shrieked, as something that looked like a potato with eyes stared back at her through the pane. The moment she shrieked, the thing, whatever it was, fell from her view.

"What is it?!" Harry asked hurriedly, as he raced in from the kitchen.

"There was something at the window!" she pointed out the back. "It was…it was alive, with a brown head."

"Oh, that'll be one of the gnomes," said Mrs. Weasley, calming her. "We have hundreds of the little blighters in the garden."

"Gn…gnomes?"

"Yeah." Harry looked sheepishly at Rebecca. "Wizarding families often get infestations of gnomes in places like their gardens."

"Tell me about it!" Mrs. Weasley moaned. "I've been trying to get rid of the foul little things for years, but no matter what, they always come back. Arthur's to blame, as he's always been too soft on them. He thinks they're funny, but how he thinks that, considering all the damage they do to the garden, I'll never know."

"_Gnomes_?" Rebecca repeated.

"Yes," repeated Harry, and pointed out the window. "See?"

She forced herself to look out again at the back garden. It was very big, but exceedingly overgrown, with dozens of molehills, and a pond where she could hear the multiple croaks of frogs. But that wasn't all she saw, as there were dozens more of those little brown gnomes, running all over the place.

"Are they dangerous?" she asked finally.

"Oh no," assured Harry.

"Not unless you're planning to enter the next garden show," muttered Mrs. Weasley.

"They're not dangerous," said Harry, ignoring the comment. "They're just…well, more of a nuisance really. See all those molehills? Those are actually _gnome_-hills. They live underground, you see, because they eat things like plant-roots."

Rebecca stared at the strange creatures. They certainly didn't look anything like the gnomes she had in _her_ garden. These things were about a foot tall, completely brown, with huge oddly shaped heads, like misshapen potatoes.

"They don't look like the gnomes you see in most gardens," she mentioned.

Harry laughed. "Nah, a lot of mythical creatures' appearances and habits were often misinterpreted by Muggles…err, your kind. Ron says those model gnomes that you usually have in your gardens look more like miniature Father Christmases with fishing rods than anything."

Rebecca just nodded. She didn't know why she was having a hard time accepting all this, considering all that she had been through in the past several years. In that time, she had been chased by a giant spider, held captive by a Centaur herd, ridden on the back of a Hippogriff, and saved by a wizard.

But still…_Gnomes_?

There was a sudden knocking from the front door then. Mrs. Weasley was about to go answer it, but Harry stopped her, cautiously making his own way over to it. He peeped through the curtain at the side window, and then smiled.

"It's Firenze," he told them both, and went to open the door.

Mrs. Weasley gave a small sigh of relief, smiling brightly, though Rebecca could tell it looked forced. She couldn't blame her. After all, it wasn't long since they had had that terrible war, which cost her the life of one of her children, and now it looked like there was going to be another one so soon after the last one had just finished. The poor woman must be so scared for her family.

"Hey, Firenze," Harry greeted the Centaur warmly. "Umm, would you…" He paused, obviously at a loss whether to beckon Firenze into the house or not, considering his size. Firenze was already finding it difficult to fit through the door, and with his height he would have to bend over considerably just to get into the house.

Whether Firenze seemed to understand this or not, Harry didn't know, but he bowed his head respectfully and said, "Thank you, but I would rather not. I only came to check if Rebecca was safe. Now that I see she is, I would prefer to remain outside."

"Oh," said Harry. "Well, sure, if you like?"

"I would," he replied affirmably. "As you should remember, Harry Potter, I always prefer to be where I can best see the sky."

"Of course. If you'd like to go around the side, you can stay in the back garden, assuming that's okay with Molly?" Harry looked to Mrs. Weasley, who smiled and nodded her consent.

"That would be fine." Firenze looked over to Rebecca, smiling gently at her. "Would you care to walk with me, my Rebecca?"

"Delighted," she replied, and hurried out with him. It wasn't that she didn't like the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley or Harry, as they were both exceedingly nice to her, and the Burrow truly was an interesting place, but when you've got someone after you, you tend to feel more at ease with people that you know than strangers.

"Don't go too far!" Harry called after them.

She waved her hand back at him, but continued walking in tow with Firenze, as they made their way around the house, to the back.

As they left, Mrs. Weasley turned to give Harry a curious look. "_My_ Rebecca?" she said, repeating Firenze's words to him.

Harry merely gave an equally curious shrug.

Meanwhile, Rebecca and Firenze went round to the back garden. As they walked, she wondered why Harry was so paranoid? After all, didn't he say they should be safe, as the Centaurs couldn't possibly know where she was now, and even so, they were only going round the back for heaven's sake. It wasn't like they were going hiking.

Besides, it didn't look like Firenze was taking any chances. He made sure to stay close to her, insisting she remain by his side, to the point where her arm brushed against his flank.

"I don't suppose they found out anything new since I left?" she asked him.

Firenze shook his head. "They are still trying to find any information concerning the identity of that woman who attempted to take you."

She sighed, merely nodding in acknowledgement.

As they walked on, they soon came into the garden. There were even more of those Gnomes out now, which confused her. She would have thought seeing an enormous thing like Firenze would frighten them back underground, but instead it seemed to be attracting more of them.

"Gnomes are not what you would call an intelligent species," said Firenze, as though picking up what she was thinking. She often wondered if he was psychic. "Their speech is limited, and they tend to run towards danger instead of away."

"I guess you must be used to them, what with living in the forest?"

"Actually, the first time I learned of Gnomes was when some students at Hogwarts told me about them. This is the first time I have ever actually seen one."

She looked curiously at him. "You've never seen a Gnome?"

He shook his head. "Gnomes are more attracted to wizard's houses. I have never seen or heard of one in the Forbidden Forest. Apparently, they prefer people's homes because they enjoy some kind of sweet that wizards eat. Since they obviously can't get sweets in the wild, they have to remain close to the houses."

"Must be pesky to wizards," she said.

"Unbelievably so, from what I've been told. Apparently, Gnomes are a giveaway to wizards who try to conceal their magic from your kind, since they only go to wizards, never Muggles."

She shrugged. "Who needs radar?"

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

The garden was large and overgrown, as she had seen through the window. She also saw the pond, which was filled with even more frogs than she originally thought. A huge fence surrounded the place, and there was a small stone building, like a shed, off to the side.

As she looked further, she saw that behind the garden there were some high trees. Firenze seemed to be heading over towards them, which she supposed made sense, seeing that he grew up in the forest, so she assumed the trees would probably feel a little bit like home to him.

In the distance she could see more extensive fields and hills, including a cornfield that she could make out through the fence.

"It's beautiful out here," she said.

Firenze nodded. "Yes, this is the closest to feeling at home I've felt since I left Hogwarts and my home-forest behind. I only wish they had more trees."

She nodded in agreement, and was about to comment when she remembered something that she had wanted to ask him.

Firenze?" she asked. "Do all the Centaurs feel as Magorian do, about coming after me?"

He frowned deeply. "Mostly," he admitted. "Ronan is neither for it or against it, as I told you. He has always preferred to keep himself open for all sides of negotiation. I am the only one who has openly opposed it."

"Just as before," she muttered quietly, but then added more loudly, "What about Safyph? What does he have to say about all this? I mean, I know he didn't exactly stand against you lot keeping me in the first place, but that was when no one knew I was with you, and now somehow I doubt he would approve of you risking war over me."

Firenze had immediately bowed his head at the sound of Safyph's name, looking down at the ground, though Rebecca did not notice until she had finished talking.

"I mean, this war would be risking loads of lives, Centaurs as well as humans, so I doubt he'd…Firenze?" She halted, noticing the look on his face, and looked at him curiously.

He lifted his head to look at her with those penetrating blue eyes of his again, and this time Rebecca saw true grief within them.

"Firenze, what is it?" she asked.

"With everything that has happened today, I have not had the chance to tell you," he explained. "Safyph, elder of our herd, and its former leader…is gone."

"Gone… Wha… Oh, you mean…"

Firenze nodded. "The Fates cut his thread of life over two years ago. He died peacefully in his sleep."

Rebecca remained quiet for a couple of minutes, staring at him sorrowfully. Out of all of the Centaurs, besides Firenze, Safyph had been the most likeable. She wouldn't go so far to call him a friend, but he had had wisdom in his years so easy to see, and despite his great age, he had been so bold and strong, it had been hard not to respect him so.

But what hurt the most, was that he had also been the one whom she felt could sort all this mess out the quickest. Every one in the herd had looked up to him, even Magorian the leader, as all had revered his wisdom.

Now, he was gone, and with him her best chance at ending all this. That meant that the coming war was now inevitable, and...

She paused for a few more moments, idly looking at the flowers, shrubberies, frogs and Gnomes. Firenze, of course, stayed by her side, waiting.

"Did he find out by the way?" she then asked casually.

"Pardon?"

"When you helped me escape, did Safyph ever find out? I'm just curious, as he seemed the brightest out of everyone."

Firenze smiled lightly, and shrugged. "I would be surprised if he didn't know. But if he did know then he never said."

Rebecca gave a small smile. Safyph had been a Centaur full of mystery, and apparently this was just another one of those mysteries that would leave people forever wondering.

As time slowly stretched on, she finally took a deep breath, and spoke again. "Firenze…" she started to say.

"No!" Firenze interrupted her.

"What?" she said, looking up in confusion.

"I know what you are planning to ask, my Rebecca," he said, looking at her intensely, "and the answer is no. I won't allow you to give yourself up to my herd."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it and sighed. "Someday I'm gonna have to ask…are you psychic, or am I just totally transparent?"

He smiled weakly at her. "I just imagine what I would be feeling if I were in your position."

"Firenze, two races are about to go to war because of _me_!" she said exasperated.

"You don't know that…"

"Firenze!" she said warningly. "Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot. I've been thinking of nothing else since Harry brought me to that Ministry. I've spent time with your herd, so I know what they're capable of. I know they will never give me up without a fight, and if what Harry says is true, that he and his Ministry won't give me up either, then what's the alternative? Because I certainly don't see the two sides sitting down and willing to come to a compromise!"

"It doesn't matter!" he insisted.

"How can you say that?! Harry said that neither your people or his are in any shape to fight again after that Voldy guy fought you both!"

"That doesn't mean we can't."

"Even if that were true, do you honestly think I could live with myself, knowing that people were going to risk their lives fighting for me?"

Firenze stayed quiet.

Rebecca's eyes filled with tears. "I should never have come back to England," she said, crying. "If I had just stayed away, none of this would have happened."

"You don't know that," he said. "If anyone's to blame, it's that wizard, whoever he was, who posed as your friend Doncaster. He meddled in our affairs, informing us of you, which in turn led to this tragic mess."

"Even if he did, it doesn't matter. If I had just stayed away, the herd would never have been able to get to me, and there'd be no danger of this war ever occurring."

Firenze sighed. "There's no point looking back at what might have been, Rebecca. The possibilities are endless. What's important is _now_."

"I know that," she said tearfully. "Why do you think I've been thinking about going home with you to your herd?"

"It won't be home to you!" he said, suddenly fierce. "It will be a prison, now and until the day you die. You cannot give yourself to my herd, Rebecca, no matter what, do you understand?!"

She moaned. "Firenze, I get that you feel responsible for me, and I am grateful for that, but with everything that's happening…"

"It's not just that! Even if you do give yourself up, do you really think Harry Potter will just stand by and allow you to remain a prisoner?"

"If I give myself up willingly, and if he wants to avoid a war that could cost countless lives, he'd better!"

"Rebecca!" Firenze glared down at her at first, but then his gaze softened, and he looked at her with a sort of tiredness. "My Rebecca, please…you have no concept of what awaits you in my herd, should they take you."

She frowned. "I think I have a pretty good idea, Firenze. I remember too well what happened when Magorian tried to…"

"What happened that night will be nothing compared to what my herd will do to you on your first night back with us," Firenze interrupted. "Not to mention what Bane would probably do. He's long been waiting for an excuse to make a human, _any_ human, suffer so."

Rebecca froze. "Wha…what do you mean?"

"Do you not remember how Bane acted around you, during your time with us?"

She nodded. Bane had been, without a doubt, the bitterest Centaur towards her out of the whole herd. She didn't know what she had done to offend him so, but he had first treated her like an unwanted guest, and later as a vile pest, like a rat or a cockroach.

"I…I think I recall you saying something to me once, about him hating all my race, because of things we'd done in the past, or how we acted today?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Bane has always had an intense dislike for humans, that is true. You humans tend to waste nature, while we Centaurs treasure and protect it. Bane has always been like all Centaurs in that respect. But… Bane harbours a huge grudge against your race for a great wrong that was done to him many years ago."

She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

Firenze paused, as he chewed on his lower lip, as though in deep consternation. He seemed unsure of what next to say.

"It's…not really my place to say anything," he admitted. "Recall when you first left, I said that I suspected there was more to Bane's hatred of humans than I originally thought. Well, it turns out I was correct. Not too long after you left, Safyph himself told me of Bane's past, about a time when…" He paused, clearly uncomfortable with talking of another Centaur's history. "Long ago, two human foals were in the Forbidden Forest, and they…" He halted again.

"What?"

He heaved a big sigh, and looked at her sadly.

"They killed Bane's son."

**To Be Continued…**


	6. Chapter 5

**_CHAPTER 5_**

**_Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!_**

0000000000

**The Burrow: **

"Bane has a son?" said Rebecca, staring in shock at Firenze.

"_Had_ a son," he corrected her, giving her a sad look. "He died nearly fifty years ago."

She blinked. "Fifty years?!"

He nodded. "That is correct."

"Fifty years? But…Bane doesn't look that old… Well, not as far as I can tell, anyway." In all honesty, because of the Centaurs' beastial appearances, she couldn't really tell any of their individual ages, aside from those like Safyph whose great age had showed clearly.

"I apologise," he said, remembering that despite having been in his herd's company for a time, she did not know a great deal about his race. "I often forget that you humans do not know much about my kind's physiology. Our lifespan is somewhat different from yours."

"Different how?"

"Well, to begin with, it is more extended. While you non-magical humans only live up to between 80 and 100 years, we Centaurs live up to an average of 200, or sometimes even longer. Safyph himself was 204 when he went to join our ancestors."

Rebecca's eyes widened slightly. "Wow. That's impressive. How old is Bane?"

"78."

She blinked. "And…I don't what to be rude, but how old are you?"

"26. Why would you be rude in asking a person's age?" He looked at her curiously.

She blushed. "Well…I didn't want to embarrass you…about your age, you know."

Now he seemed genuinely confused. "Why would I be embarrassed about telling you my age?"

"Well, a lot of people I know are often a little funny about telling anyone how old they are. Not everyone wants people to know that."

"Why on earth would they not?" He stared at her, incredulous. "The older that one is, the greater the wisdom they have gained in their life. Safyph was the oldest amongst us, and he was our most valued herd member. Do you not feel the same for your elders?"

Rebecca paused.

His words made her think of her paternal grandfather. She remembered listening to the stories he had told her of his life, when she was little, of when he fought in World War II, the time when he went on safari, when he met and married her grandmother, and had her father…etc. She remembered being so rapt and fascinated with him as a child, but when she got to her teens, it was like she had cut him out of her life.

She wished she could blame it on people like her former schoolmates, who had all been obsessed with being popular, shopping and gossiping, and had passed those qualities to her, but the truth was, she had been just as bad as they had been. She had been so obsessed with meaningless things that she no longer remembered, like going to the concert of a band that had long since disbanded, or buying some make-up that they didn't even sell any more, or other things that she had since gotten rid of. She had been so hung up on stuff like that, that before she knew it, several years had passed, and one day she had come home to her father telling her that her grandfather had passed away.

He had spent his last few years in a nursing home, and she had rarely gone to visit him. Not that she had been alone in that, since her parents had both been too busy with their jobs and social lives to go visit either, but at least they had had a better excuse than she. They had had their work, while she had been more interested in attending someone's party than going to visit someone who, by then, she thought to be nothing more than a senile old man.

At that moment, she truly envied the Centaurs and their traditions. The way Firenze was speaking of Safyph, in honour and respect, of what a valued Centaur he had been. If only she had been smart enough to treat her grandfather the same way when she had had the chance!

"…Some of us do," she answered him pathetically, feeling ashamed.

If Firenze was still curious then he did not show it, and remained silent for a few minutes.

"What was his name?" she asked.

He looked at her.

"Bane's son. Who was he?"

"His name was Faryn. Named so for his adventurous spirit. I never knew him personally, as he passed away long before I was born. I only know what little Safyph mentioned of him, as Bane does not like to hear talk of him. His very name brings rage to his heart."

"Rage?" She looked up at him. "Why? Didn't he love him?"

"More than life itself. Faryn's Breeder, what you humans would call his mother and Bane's mate, had died in childbirth. Faryn meant everything to Bane."

"I don't understand then. Why would Bane be mad at him?"

"It is not at Faryn that Bane feels embittered, but at the ones who took him from him. The ones who ended his life so prematurely."

"What happened?" She knew she was being nosy, but she couldn't help it, as her curiosity was fanned, and the chance to know anything about the Centaur who, more than any other, had made her stay with the herd a trial, was too good to pass up.

Firenze sighed. "Very well," he replied. "It was in the year you humans call 1950…"

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_**Forbidden Forest; 1950:**_

_Faryn galloped ahead of his father, eyeing all the trees and flora with innocent curiosity and fascination. They weren't what he had really come to see, but he had never been this far from the Herding Ground before, so every sight and sound was new to him. _

"_Faryn, stay close!" his father, Bane, yelled to him. "I told you not to stray!" _

_He came to a stop, looking back at his father with big wide eyes, full of what looked like grief and guilt…something Bane had long since learned not to trust. _

"_Oh, don't give me that look," said Bane, as he came up beside his son. "You've been pulling that trick on me since you were barely out of your Breeder's womb." _

"_I don't know what you mean," Faryn replied, never losing his look of innocence. _

_His father just gave him a slight sneer, and lightly clipped him round the ear playfully. _

_Faryn was a close likeness of his father, with a body-coat of utter blackness all over him. His horse half was typical for most Centaur foals, the same as ordinary horse foals, with muscle but a little bit of baby-fat. His human half, though, was mainly all baby-fat, due to his young age, only six years old. The one thing that distinguished him from Bane was his eyes, which were a bright brown, the same as his Breeder, and the thing that Bane adored most about him. _

"_Don't stray from me again," he said seriously. "Remember what we talked about? The Forest is full of dangerous creatures, so it's important that you stay close to me at all times." _

"_But aren't you always telling me that our race is the bravest there is?" _

_Bane gave a small smile, but sobered quickly. "Being brave doesn't make us invulnerable, my son. There are many things that share these woods with us that could destroy us. So it's important that we not give them the chance." _

_Faryn puffed out his chest. "I could fight any beast that the woods send my way! I'll be the bravest Centaur ever, since the elder Safyph!" _

_Bane tried to hide a smirk. When Faryn had been born, the Fates had revealed to their herd that he would grow up with a brave spirit, full of eagerness and a love for adventure. Those were usually great qualities for a Centaur, but too much bravery and not enough common sense would often be a bad thing. Faryn had, on more than one occasion, tended to act first and think later. _

_When a new foal was born, they used certain divination charms to glimpse into his future. It would not reveal all to them, but give them some idea of what type of centaur he would grow into, and what the Fates had shown the herd, Faryn was definitely going to be one of those who would cause trouble. _

"_I'm sure you will," Bane admitted. "But remember, bravery alone cannot save you from an enemy's grasp." _

_Faryn nodded, though whether he heard or understood Bane's words was another matter. His face, meanwhile, was turned the other way, staring ahead, searching for something. _

"_Are we anywhere near that place you talked about?" he asked. _

_Bane frowned. The place his son was talking about was none other than the human school, Hogwarts. That was partly the reason why Faryn had wanted to come with him in the first place. Since his birth, Faryn had had a natural and overflowing curiosity about all things. When he had first heard about Unicorns, Cerberuses, Grindylows, and many other things, he hadn't settled until he saw one of each for himself. That curiosity of his also included humans, as he had never seen one before. _

"_Not yet," he answered him slowly. "We should be close to the school's borders soon." _

_He had answered his son's questions about humanity as best he could, or at least as much as he could handle without feeling the need to grimace (Humans were definitely not a favourite subject with him). He had no personal vendetta with them, but their ways made him distrustful of them. They were just so wasteful of nature and its resources, like those fox-hunters he had heard about who hunted for mere pleasure instead of for food, or the way they cut down so many trees, sometimes devouring whole forests, just so they could build more of those ridiculously huge stone buildings, when a mere hut could sustain them. _

_He had, of course, told his son all this, but all that seemed to do was enflame his son's passion. And, unfortunately, there eventually comes a time when answering mere questions are not enough for children. Faryn had asked and asked, until finally his patience had grown thin, and he had asked, nay demanded, that he see a human for himself. _

_Bane had refused him at first, but Faryn was nothing if not persistent. Plus, the other centaurs of his herd had told him that he couldn't keep his son at his side forever, as he was at that age when foals usually started venturing from the Herding Ground, to find things out for themselves, just as Bane himself had done so. _

_The sad truth was, Faryn was growing up, and if Bane just kept refusing him, then chances were he would one day just go out and look for a human all by himself, and Hogwarts was a good journey away, with many places like the Acromantula nest and the Manticore Pride between it and the Centaurs' ground. _

_In the end, Bane had just sighed and accepted the inevitable. If his son was so intent on seeing a human, then the least he could do was be there for him and ensure he came to no harm on the way. Besides, maybe seeing a human would be good for him, or at the very least prove some of what Bane had told him about them his whole life. _

_A loud mournful cry suddenly sounded near to them, making Bane instinctually grab his bow and arrow. "Stay close to me," he whispered to his son, moving in front of him. _

_The noise had sounded equine in origin, possibly meaning another centaur nearby, as their kind were known to make noises similar to horses when injured or excited. But then again, there were other horse-like creatures in the Forbidden Forest, such as Unicorns. _

_The cry sounded again, followed by a loud flapping noise, sounding like the beating of wings. _

"_What is it, sire?" asked Faryn (Centaurs always refer to their parents as sires or breeders). _

"_The flapping noise is that of wings, together with the horse-like cry," he explained. "That probably means the creature we just heard was that of a winged horse, like an Abraxan, though they are not indigenous to our forest. It's probably one of their cousins, like the Granian or the Aethonan." _

"_What's wrong?" _

"_It must be hurt. I'll see if I can find and tend to it." _

"_I'll wait here until you return!" said Faryn excitedly. _

"_No," Bane started to say, but Faryn was quicker. _

"_You'll find the creature much quicker without me slowing you down," he added. "I'll wait here until you return."_

_Bane was about to object, but the sounds of the injured beast echoed throughout the forest, making him wince. _

"_Fine," he relented. "But remain here, and under no circumstances move." _

_None of the forest's more dangerous creatures were close by, so Faryn should be safe here, Bane thought, and he hurried through the thick growth, galloping towards the source of the sounds. _

_Winged horses were a familiar breed in Greece; the ancestral homeland of his species. Also, because of their link to horses, centaurs were often softhearted towards other species of horse-clans. _

_Faryn watched him go, and then anxiously shifted his weight from one hoof to the other, excitement already driving him crazy. Especially when he was in a part of the forest that he had never been in before, just waiting to be explored. _

_As he looked over to where his father had gone, he peered through the thick branches, but saw nothing. His father was already out of sight. _

'_It wouldn't hurt to just take a quick look around,' he thought. 'If I gallop, I could search all over this place, and be back before my sire even starts back.' _

_Satisfied, Faryn immediately took off in the opposite direction from his father, trotting forward to that place where humans were…Hogwarts! _

_0000000000_

"_Are you sure about this?" Michael whispered to his friend. _

"_Aw, quit whisperin', will ya?!" a large boy with long hair admonished him. "We're in the middle of the forest for cryin' out loud!" _

_Michael grimaced, but still couldn't bring his voice above muttering. He was too nervous and scared. His friend, Roy, had convinced him to come into the Forbidden Forest with him. Just thinking of doing that was scary enough for him, but what he intended to do in the forest was beyond terrifying. _

"_Roy, you know we shouldn't be doing this," he hissed at him. "There's a reason why this particular spell is banned." _

"_Yuir not goin' chicken on me now, are ya?" said his friend. "Cluck-cluck-cluck…!" _

"_Enough!" Michael hated it when he did that. He'd had enough of it back home, from all the muggle kids who lived near his house. Unfortunately, it was a sure way for Roy or anyone to get him to do what they wanted. All his life, he had been called a coward. He once thought that after he came to Hogwarts, things would change. _

_He had been wrong. If anything, things were worse, even in their second year, just because he preferred to be careful when dealing with certain spells that could prove hazardous, like the one they were about to try. _

"_I've been studying this spell for months now," said Roy proudly. "Trust me, nothing will go wrong…not as long as you don't interrupt me." _

_Michael felt like whimpering, as Roy pulled out his wand. _

_0000000000_

_Faryn had spent several minutes trotting through the forest growth, not seeing a soul anywhere. He was starting to think he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when he heard unexpected but welcome voices from close by. _

"_Humans!" he whispered excitedly. It had to be, as he was nowhere near the Herding Ground. _

_His curiosity was once more enflamed, and he hurried to where the voices were coming from, eager to see a human for the first time. _

_0000000000_

_Roy waved his wand around for a bit before reciting, "Fiendfyre!" _

_Fiendfyre was the fire curse, a spell fuelled by powerful dark magic. It was also banned from Hogwarts, and most of the magical community, as it was too dangerous. Many wizards and witches had perished because they were unable to control the flames spawned from the dark magic, and the flames couldn't be extinguished easily. _

_Roy was an advanced student in many of his subjects, and had a habit of learning certain spells against Ministry protocols. He was basically one of those people who had a problem with authority. He had decided to learn the fire spell, claiming that it would be a challenge, and also, once he mastered it, it would make a great display at the end of term, better than fireworks. _

_The moment he spoke, a large flame sprouted from the tip of his wand, and plunged forward, like a flame-thrower. They leaped about, swerving in a dangerous display of uncontrolled blaze. _

"_Roy!" said Michael, with fear in his voice. _

"_Don't talk!" his friend snapped. His eyes were half-closed, as he focused his mind in concentration. The flames stopped their furious dance, as they slowly began to take on a more distinct form. _

_Michael watched in awe, as the fire started to look more and more like their head-master, Professor __Armando Dippet. _

"_See," whispered Roy, his voice low, as he was still concentrating. "Told you there was nothing to it." _

"_But…" he started to reply, but another noise silenced him. _

_A chorus of large creaks, from snapped bushes and twigs, sounded from their right, causing both boys to look over in alarm. _

"_Hello?!" a young voice called out, startling the boys, who saw to their amazement a young Centaur stroll out of the dense thicket. _

"_Wha…" Roy started to say, but whatever he planned to speak never came out. For the young Centaur's arrival had completely thrown off his concentration. _

_The fire-made form of their headmaster suddenly fell apart, returning once more to an uncontrollable swirl of blazing flames, as they twisted and turned, bursting and crackling with more power. _

"_Roy!" Michael cried out, but it was too late. The flames gave another burst of energy, and then there was fire everywhere. _

_The flames shot forward, like a dragon's fire, consuming everything in its path. The leaves on the trees and bushes immediately vanished, as they were burnt to ash, and the branches were left as blackened pieces of dead wood. And they were not the only things to be left dead. _

_The flames had come and gone within less than half a minute, and when they were gone, there was nothing but utter silence, save for a few flames still burning, and the smell of smoke and…something else. _

_The boys stared in shock at the now unrecognisable pile of charred remains of what had once been a young Centaur. It lay motionless on the ground, the stench of burnt horsehair and burning flesh wavering in the air. _

"_Wha…what have you done?" Michael could only whisper. _

_His question seemed to knock Roy out of his stupor, and the boy did the only thing a child of his age could do…he ran. _

_Michael needed no further convincing, and raced after his friend in fear, running from the sight, the smell, and the memory now forever embedded in his mind. _

_0000000000_

"_Faryn!" Bane called out for his son, fuming. _

_The horse he had found had indeed turned out to be an Aethonan, a winged horse that was rather popular in Great Britain and Ireland. He had recognised it as soon as he had seen its chestnut coloured coat, which was a sure sign of its Aethonan lineage. Its leg had been entangled in some thorn bushes, but other than a few deep scratches, it was in no real danger, other than the risk of attracting predators with its continuous cries. Bane had released it from the bushes, and it had flown off almost immediately. _

_When he had returned to where he had left Faryn, he had found the spot deserted. He had told him to wait, only for the foal to deliberately disobey him. When he got his hands on him…! _

"_Faryn, if you don't get your hooves right here, I will…!" _

_Suddenly, he stopped, and raised his head up, his keen nose sniffing the air. There was a distinctive scent of fire and smoke. _

"_Faryn," he uttered, and raced forward, his hooves making huge echoes, like thunder. _

_Unsurprisingly, he had reached the border of the forest, at the edge of Hogwarts' land, which was where Faryn had wanted to go in the first place, to see a human. Here, the stench of fire was strongest, but there was also another…the stench of death. _

_Bane didn't stop, and continued racing forward, crashing through more bushes, until he found the source of the stench. Only then did he stop. _

"_No__…" he said, his normally loud voice now reduced to a low whisper. _

_Before him lay the charred remains of a small beast. At first, he hoped, and prayed that it was nothing more than a common horse, a unicorn, or perhaps another one of those winged horses that had gotten lost. But deep down he knew what it was, as he knew the scent and sight, even a burned one, of his own kind. And judging by the size of this one, it had to be a young foal, which meant… _

"_No…" said Bane, as he came slowly forward, his hooves now as silent as the grave he was treading on, "No… No… NO!" _

_His legs moved back and forth, as the anguish and grief rose up inside him, and he threw his head back, his face held high, as he roared._

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAARRRRGHHHHHHHH!"_

0000000000

**Present; Burrow: **

Rebecca looked aghast at Firenze. "That's…that's terrible!" she managed to stutter out. She had never dreamed that she would ever feel sorry for Bane.

Firenze nodded. "That day when Faryn died, my herd say that a part of Bane died, too. He never speaks of it, refuses to even say Faryn's name. And because of that, he will always loath humanity with all his heart."

"I can't say I blame him," she replied. "Yet, you say he still fought alongside humans when that dark wizard was about?"

He shrugged. "Like I said, Bane has always had a deep hatred of your kind, even more so after what happened to his son. But despite all that, he never lets it consume him for too long. He hates humanity, sure enough, but he would never attack a human foal, as such a thing is unheard of in our kind. And when the dark wizard threatened all of existence, and Harry Potter seemingly sacrificed himself to stop him, while we all just stood around and watched, even Bane could not stand back and do nothing."

"So he overcame his hate, and fought not against humans, but with them," she said, sounding impressed.

He nodded. "Even Bane could not deny the amount of honour and bravery the humans who fought against the dark one had. They impressed even he, but…" He looked sadly at her. "As impressed as he was, not even that was enough to make his hurt go away completely. Although his fury to your kind has calmed somewhat since you last saw him, it still lives in him, as I suspect it always will, and he will take any chance to torment a human."

She chewed her lower lip. "What…what happened with the two boys who killed his son?"

Firenze frowned. "The way some of the herd describes it, nothing. Bane naturally wanted to take vengeance for his son, by hunting down the ones responsible."

"I thought you said he wouldn't dream of hurting a child?"

"He didn't know they were children at the time, but even after he found out… Well, let's just say the justice they received wasn't to his liking."

"How do you mean? What happened?"

"The Ministry of Magic was able to learn who was responsible fast enough. Armando Dippet, the headmaster of Hogwarts at the time, and his teaching staff all investigated their students thoroughly, and eventually discovered who had cast one of their forbidden spells. When they did, the boys were expelled from the school, and they were given a trial by the Ministry, but…"

"But?"

He shrugged. "But nothing. That was all. In the end, the Ministry decreed that the boys were too young to be sent to prison. They were given a criminal record, and had their wands taken away from them, but that was it."

"And I'm guessing Bane was not too thrilled with their decision?" Rebecca deduced.

"It took all the herd to stop him from going straight to the Ministry and beating down their doors with his own hooves," Firenze told her. "Even then he would not listen. For a time, he was even willing to break our law, and hunt down the two foals and give them his own taste of justice. Luckily, the herd stopped him, and over time he was able to calm his ire, but it has never left him in all these years. In fact, over the years it has festered, and turned him into one bitter Centaur."

"I can't imagine the kind of pain that such a loss would cause a person," Rebecca said sympathetically.

"No one can, unless they have gone through it themselves. And no one in our herd has, besides Bane."

For a moment, Rebecca remembered Mrs. Weasley, and what she had seen in her house with the clock, and that old photo of one of the twins.

"Mrs. Weasley lost a son, too, didn't she?" she asked.

Firenze nodded. "Fred Weasley. He and his twin brother George both fought in the final battle at Hogwarts. George survived, but his brother, alas, did not."

"Maybe she should talk with Bane?" she suggested. "She knows the pain of losing a son, so maybe she could relate to him."

Firenze gave a bitter smile. "It would take the whole of the herd to get Bane to willingly talk with a human."

"Perhaps, but it might be worth mentioning it to him some time? Like you said, no one in your herd has lost a child besides Bane. So maybe he just needs to talk to someone who has gone through it."

He cocked his head to the side, in a seeming consideration. "Perhaps…" he finally allowed, but said nothing else. "But that will change nothing in the long run." He stared hard at her. "Out of all the Centaurs in my herd, Bane is the one who will take the utmost delight in making you suffer, should you return to us."

She shivered a little, but Firenze continued talking.

"And he will not be the only one," he vowed. "There are many in my herd that will use your arrival as an excuse to celebrate, and…well, I assume you remember what my herd were like the last time you were at one of our celebrations?"

"Painfully," she said, moaning.

"Now imagine that last celebration you were at, and multiple it by a hundred times!"

She sighed. "Firenze, I know what you're doing… You're trying to frighten me into staying on the run, so I won't turn myself in."

He paused, staring at her silently.

"While I appreciate your commitment to helping me, it doesn't change the fact that there are people out there suffering because of me. If I don't turn myself in to your herd, the war will escalate."

"It is true, I do wish you to heed my words, and change your mind," said Firenze, his eyes never leaving her. "But that doesn't make my words any less true, and you should know me better by now than to think I'd lie."

She held her breath.

"I did not lie or exaggerate my warning, Rebecca." He took a hesitant step closer towards her. "I meant what I said. The first night you come to spend with my herd will undoubtedly be bad enough, as many will want to _welcome_ you back. But after that, the rest of your life will be spent living in servitude. Your only purpose in life will be to serve my brothers for their physical pleasures, and to produce foals for my entire herd, to double their numbers."

He raised his hands, and gently but firmly touched her shoulders, forcing her to look at him directly.

"Do you understand my words, Rebecca?" he asked seriously, making her more fearful than ever. "If you give yourself up, and return with Magorian and Bane to the forest, your life will be effectively over. You will become nothing more than a whore for my herd, a slave, and what you humans might call a living incubator. Any rights you may have had when you were first with us will be gone. You will have nothing, not even the right to see life beyond the Herding Ground. You will be forever trapped with our herd, as they will take no risks in you escaping again. There will be no chance of escape for you…ever!"

He looked deep into her eyes. "Do you understand what I am saying, Rebecca?"

"What do you want me to say, Firenze?" she asked the centaur calmly. She honestly wanted him to tell her, as she couldn't think of a word to say. She had known from the beginning that if she were to return with him to his herd, it was doubtful her stay would be an enjoyable one. But after hearing him tell her what they would most likely do, she was left speechless.

"I want you to say you will not give yourself to my herd," he told her firmly. "That you will not even consider it, and will do as Harry Potter tells you, and keep yourself hidden and safe."

"For how long?"

At her reply, he kept quiet, which was good because she was still too overwhelmed to say anything else. Her thoughts were a jumble, filled with fear, confusion and doubt.

When she had said she would give herself up to the centaur herd, she had been telling the truth. The thought of a war occurring because of her was too terrible to accept, and she still felt like that, but at the same time she could not stop thinking about all that Firenze had told her. The first and last time the centaurs had assaulted her, had been enough to scar her for life, and _if_ what Firenze told her was true…?

Rebecca stopped herself thinking that. For one thing, Firenze wasn't a liar. If he told her something, then chances are it was true, however frightening it might be.

But what he was telling her was beyond terrifying. Even now, horrible images of all the centaurs ganging up on her, as they did on the night of her halted breeding, filled her mind, only this time there would be no stopping them, no one to save her, and then they'd...

She visibly shuddered, making Firenze pull her close to him, embracing her.

"I don't know how long," answered Firenze truthfully. "But surely it's better than the alternative?"

"For the rest of my life?" she said, speaking into his chest. She didn't pull away. In fact, she enjoyed the warmth of his body, and the soft hairs of his chest rubbing smoothly against her skin. It was comforting. "Am I supposed to pull up stakes and run for the rest of my days, never stopping or resting, and just hope that one day your people will stop hunting me?!"

Firenze sighed. "I don't know. I really wish I could tell you more, but I can only tell you what _will_ happen if you do go with them."

Tears began to escape her eyes, as they poured down her face. She blinked them away furiously, hating to cry. She hadn't cried since she was with the herd.

'It seems the centaurs are once again cause for great grief in my life,' she thought bitterly.

The more she blinked, the more the tears flowed, so she remained where she was, in Firenze's embrace, quietly sobbing into his chest.

**To Be Continued…**


	7. Chapter 6

**_CHAPTER 6_**

**_Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!_**

0000000000

**The Burrow: **

After she had spent several minutes crying into Firenze's chest, she finally calmed down, as her sobs slowly died into mere whimpers, hiccups, and finally blessed silence.

She felt so horribly embarrassed at the way she had acted in front of Firenze, as she didn't think crying was what the Centaurs would call a strong and therefore appropriate trait. It certainly didn't fit in with what she thought of them, as they would no doubt consider it a sign of weakness.

Saying that, though, she couldn't help but wonder if Bane had cried when his son had died?

"Feel better?" Firenze's gentle voice broke through her reverie, as she blinked and looked up into his concerned face.

She gave a small smile. "Yes, thank you." Despite this, though, he still hadn't taken his arms off from around her, but that was fine with her. His warm arms made her feel secure, which would be the first time since this whole business had begun.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I had no desire to make you cry."

"That's okay." She didn't say anything else, because she still had nothing else to say. What could she say? Firenze had indeed succeeded in terrifying her to no end, concerning his herd and their plans for her, should they capture her. If anything, she definitely had no immediate plans to give herself up to them anymore.

"Just…promise me you won't try to find them," he asked her.

She sighed, unsure of what to say. After a while, she looked up at him with a questioning look. "Mind if I ask you something?" she said, in an attempt to change the subject, if only for a moment.

"Not at all."

"I'm just curious about something. About the human women who bore centaur babies in the old days."

"What about them?"

"Well…how exactly could they have carried and given birth to them? I mean, centaur foals are a lot bigger than human babies. How could they have carried them to term and everything?"

Firenze looked uncomfortable for a moment. "In the past, my kind weren't too bothered whether the women who bore their young lived or not. As a result, many did not survive the births."

Rebecca had had a feeling that might have been the case, but she still winced.

"However," he then said, "my kind has come a long way in medicine since ancient times. Our noted founder Chiron himself was a skilled healer, as well as a stargazer, and he passed his knowledge down to us. Since then, we have refined our skills, and are now confidant in treating any illness and injury. Therefore there's very little chance of anything fatal occurring to a mother giving birth to one of my race now."

Rebecca shrugged. "Oh well, at least I won't have to worry about death in childbirth."

"Promise me you won't try to find my herd, Rebecca?" Firenze then said, clearly not willing to let the previous subject go. "Give me your word."

She looked at him, but did not dare to meet his eyes. Finally, she sighed again and just nodded. "I'd probably be too weak and cowardly to go up to them anyway."

"Never!" Firenze said sharply. He pulled back, looking down into her eyes again. "Don't ever say that about yourself, my Rebecca. You who have stood up to an entire centaur herd, fought to escape despite overwhelming odds, and have overcome every trial sent your way. You are _not_ weak!"

"Firenze, I…"

But whatever she had tried to say never made it out, as Firenze had suddenly leaned his head forward, his face filling her vision, before his soft lips touched hers.

At first, she was too shocked to do anything, as she stood there in his arms, his lips enveloping hers. She knew she should push him off her, tell him no, or something like that, but then the thoughts and emotions she had gone through the first time they had kissed all those years ago came flooding back to her.

'My god, am I really doing this?' she thought, as she kissed him back. 'He's half horse for crying out loud! What does this make me, a beastiality fan?'

But as she melted into his kiss, she found the sensation to be the same as it was before, his warm taste filling her mouth, making her forget all the differences between them, and the muscles in his arms holding her, pulling her into his soft but masculine chest.

They stood like that for about a minute. Rebecca knew she should break apart from him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It would almost be considered a romantic moment, if it weren't for the fact that Firenze's face looked like more equine than human.

When it looked as though the kiss would never end, Firenze finally pulled back, smiling at her. "I have missed you, my Rebecca," he told her, and moved forward again for another kiss.

This time, she did stop him, and pulled back before his lips could touch hers again.

"Firenze, please don't," she said breathlessly.

"What's wrong?" he asked her worriedly.

'Everything,' she thought, but didn't say that out loud. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean…what I mean is…" She stopped in irritation, fighting the urge to throw up her hands in anger at herself. "Firenze, seeing you again after all these years has brought up a lot of old feelings in me, feelings that I thought were long gone. But…" She paused.

"Do you not feel the same way for me anymore?"

"No, yes…possibly…" She groaned. "I don't know. I'm so confused. But, Firenze, you need to know something. I'm…"

"_Miss Leicester! Firenze!"_ Mrs. Weasley's voice called out to them from beyond the trees, from the house. _"I've got some food out on the table if you're hungry?!"_

Rebecca honestly didn't know whether to feel relieved or irritated at Mrs. Weasley's interruption.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley!" she yelled back. "We'll be there in a minute!"

When she looked back to Firenze, she found him staring at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her to continue. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words to.

"I…I…" she stuttered.

"Perhaps we should have something to eat first, and then talk later?" he suggested.

She bit her lip in frustration. She had something really important that she needed to tell him right now! He had a right to know. She couldn't put it off any longer, as it wasn't fair to him.

"I…I…okay," she finished pathetically, and added in a miserable thought, 'God, I'm a coward.'

She allowed Firenze to lead her back to the house.

0000000000

**Half Hour Later: **

Mrs. Weasley had put together a fabulous feast in so short a time that even if Rebecca had only just come into this magical community recently, she would have guessed it was magic straight away.

She was a lovely woman, Mrs. Weasley, though Rebecca noticed she had a tendency to go overboard with things, like the meal she had prepared. Although there were only three of them there now, as Harry had gone back to the Ministry, leaving her in Firenze' and Molly's care, Mrs. Weasley had made what looked like enough to feed an army of five thousand.

The food had been brought and laid on a table outside, where Firenze could get at it, and he ate with the appetite of a horse (which was to be expected). Rebecca remembered too well the Centaur's huge appetites, what with them having two stomachs and all. Mrs. Weasley had been well pleased, saying she loved a man with a good appetite.

Luckily, Rebecca had saved her by her mistake, by correcting her, saying "Centaur", as Centaurs despised being referred to as men, even worse than half-breeds or horses, and Firenze was no exception, despite his more gentle nature.

All through the meal, she had tried numerous times to pick up where she had left off, to tell Firenze what she knew she had to, but each time she tried to speak, she failed miserably.

'I'm pathetic,' she thought honestly.

"Is something wrong, Rebecca dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

She gave a half-smile. "No," she lied. "Just…thinking. That's all." She couldn't bring herself to look at Firenze's face. If she knew him half as well as she thought she did, he knew she was hiding something that she wanted to tell him.

'Why the devil didn't I tell him before all this mess?' she thought, furious with herself. 'Before we came here, before that stupid witch, before…that kiss.'

She moaned.

Suddenly, there was a knock from the front-door, though how they had managed to hear it from this far still eluded her. Mrs. Weasley instantly got up to go answer it, waving Firenze to stay and finish his food.

"I'll shout if there's anything wrong," she promised him, and hurried off.

Rebecca knew she should take advantage of this moment, and talk to Firenze, but the knock on the door had immediately put her on edge. After all, it wasn't that long since she had had a Centaur and a witch try to kidnap her. She stayed sitting where she was, holding her breath.

Firenze seemed to have picked up on her apprehension, and leaned over to place his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. She smiled at him gratefully, and patted his hand with her own.

"It's Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley's voice shouted to them.

Firenze smiled. "A friend," he told her simply.

A few moments later, a young woman came through the back-door into the garden, smiling at everyone. Rebecca instantly recognised her as the girl from the photo on the clock in the Weasley's living room. She was about Harry and Ron's age, quite pretty, with a long mane of brown hair that was slightly bushy, tied back in a plait, and big brown eyes. She was dressed not in robes, as most of the witches and wizards she had seen so far usually were, but in a smart business suit, carrying a small bag with her.

"Hello, Miss Leicester?" the girl said in a polite voice. "I'm Hermione Granger. How are you?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I've been better."

"Yes, I can imagine." Hermione sat down in front of her, giving Firenze a brief smile and a quick hello. "I'm just here visiting, but I work at the Ministry with Harry and Ron. I don't really have anything to do with the type of work they're doing at the moment, or with your case, but…well, let's just say I have experience with this kind of thing."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Are you with the Aurors, too?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly… I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Rebecca blinked. "You're kidding?"

She shook her head.

"A pet warden?! Harry has sent Pest Control to look after me?"

Hermione lost her smile, but she kept her cool. "Harry asked me to come see you. Just to check if things were all right, and if there was anything else I can do."

"I doubt it," she muttered, and then sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, but…it's just been a long day."

"Understandable," said Hermione in an understanding tone. "Believe me, I know. I've been where you are before."

She gave her a disbelieving look. "You've had a Centaur herd try to come after you, too?"

Hermione laughed. "Not a Centaur, no, but…virtually everything else. Though mostly just dark wizards and witches, trying to kill me and my friends."

Rebecca only blinked once. "You fought in the war against that…Voldy guy?"

She nodded. "Voldemort. My boyfriend Ron, Harry and I spent months wandering around the country, always on the run, with every dark wizard and witch after us. We never had a moment's peace, as we had to have our wits about us at all times. One time we let our guard down when we were visiting Harry's old home village, and we nearly got eaten by a … Well, anyway, like I said, I know a little about what you're going through, being hunted and all."

She accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Weasley, who had just brought it out for her. As she took a small sip from it, she gave a small but bitter smile. "Funny. You would think that after Voldemort's defeat, all the fighting would be over. Now, not much more than a year later, here we are again, war on the horizon."

Rebecca looked down. "Sorry."

Hermione nearly lowered her cup in shock. "Oh no, I didn't mean…I wasn't blaming you!" She hastened to assure her. "You are not to blame for any of this. It's all…" She paused, eyeing Firenze carefully, who at that moment avoided her gaze. "It's…just one of those things. It can't be helped."

"So everyone keeps telling me," she replied, looking at Firenze beside her. He met her gaze, and then put his hand over hers, squeezing it gently.

She couldn't help but notice how Hermione's eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of their hands meeting. Mrs. Weasley was busy cutting cake and pouring more tea to notice, or possibly she was just practised at keeping her eyes away from another person's business.

"May I ask you something?" Rebecca asked, hastily pulling her hand away from Firenzes'.

"Sure."

"Well, you, Harry and Ron… You all work for the Ministry, which I've been told is the magical equivalent of the government, but you all seem so…"

"Yes?"

"Well, to be frank, you all seem a little young to working such high profile jobs, especially Harry, if what I've heard about an Aurors' job is true. I mean, how long's it been since you left school?"

Hermione laughed. "Not long at all, actually. In fact, technically speaking, I'm still at school now."

"Huh?"

Hermione sipped her tea. "Well, during our last year at Hogwarts, we didn't have time to go to school and finish it. We were constantly on the run."

"So…what, you're school dropouts or something?" she asked blankly.

Molly and Firenze looked curiously at her, wondering what a school dropout was, but Hermione's laughter halted them from asking.

"Not quite," she explained. "I work at the Ministry, but I'm also re-taking my final year."

"How'd you manage that then?"

She shrugged. "Because of all the…_work_ that we did during the war, me, Ron and Harry were practically begged to join the Ministry. Main reason being is that we probably learned more during the war than any Auror did in a classroom. And, because so many good Aurors were lost, the Ministry needed all the good people they could get. And Harry and Ron are rated right up there with the best."

Rebecca blinked, but smiled. "Quite a lot of accomplishments for three kids who never finished school," she joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

"And they deserve every letter of it!" Molly declared, handing Hermione a slice of cake, and patting her head. "No one did more than you three."

Hermione just smiled back at her, and finished her cake, but Rebecca wasn't finished.

"Can I ask you something else, too?"

"Yeah?"

"Well…you're a witch, right?"

"Well, obviously?"

"Well, forgive me if this is impolite or anything, and I know I haven't been around your kind too long today, but… Well, all the witches and wizards I've noticed from the Ministry so far have all been dressed in robes and pointy hats. You're the first person I've seen in a suit."

Hermione laughed again. "It's alright. Yeah, most lot do wear the old style robes, but as for me… Well, I've never been too comfortable in robes and hats. Personally, I find them a little outdated and old fashioned. This is much more to my liking. Stylish, modern, yet functional." She stood up for a second, showing off her suit.

Rebecca smiled. She definitely liked this girl. "We've _sooo_ got to talk."

0000000000

Rebecca and Hermione had spent the next couple of hours talking clothes, shopping, the best stores, and, of course, Rebecca's view on the magical community in general. Hermione wasn't much into the whole shopping gig, but she certainly knew her fashion sense. Also, the fact that she was Muggle-born made her that much more appealing.

Rebecca was grateful for someone who had lived in the muggle world, as they knew about common day things like magazines, muggle music, movies and such. Although Hermione didn't spend a lot of time among muggles anymore, except for her family, she still kept up to date on all the latest happenings and going-ons.

Mrs. Weasley had kept herself busy with washing the dishes and housework, while Firenze had quietly excused himself, apparently going off to check on the area.

Hermione had gone on to explain to her that the Burrow had once been fused with all manner of protective spells during the war, making it one of the safest places there was. Alas, when Voldemort had taken control of the Ministry, he had sent his Death Eaters after them, storming the place and destroying all of the spells. After the war ended, they had had only a few of the original spells recast, as there hadn't been a need for them up until now, since Voldemort and his followers were gone.

"But even if they were all here, there's no guarantee they'd work against Centaurs," Hermione had told her. "The spells were mostly designed to work against dark wizards, people who worked for Voldemort. Centaurs were never involved in the war until the very end, so there wasn't a need to include them in the protection magic. And they're not even human, and very rarely ever use magic, so the spells might be ineffective against them. But even so, we've taken every precaution, and the Centaurs have no reason to suspect you'd ever be here. They don't even know where Ron's family lives."

Hermione had a reassuring tone, but she was also direct. She made sure to tell Rebecca the truth about what might happen, so she could prepare for the worst. In truth, Rebecca wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed with that. On the one hand, she was happy someone was treating her with respect and telling her the full truth, while on the other she felt like she could have done with a comforting lie, if only to quell the burning fear she had.

"Hello, anyone here?!" Ron's voice called out from the house.

"Out here, Ron!" Hermione called back to him. A few moments later, he came out, smiling broadly at them both.

"Hiya," he greeted them both, but planted a quick kiss on Hermione's cheek. "Sorry I couldn't get back sooner."

"Why are you so long?" said Hermione, frowning.

He sighed. "Another Centaur sighting. This was another close call. Nearly a whole busload of people almost caught sight of the four legged menace."

"Did you get everyone?" she asked urgently.

He nodded. "I'll say one thing; at least all this running around is giving me a good workout."

She smiled, kissing him back, this time on the lips.

Rebecca smiled at the both of them. It was nice to watch a couple in love. It reminded her that she…

"Have you been alright here, Miss Leicester?" Ron then asked her.

"It's Rebecca, please. And yes, your mother's been the perfect hostess."

"Where's Firenze by the way?" His voice took on a worried tone.

"He's out checking the perimeters," assured Hermione. "You don't have to worry about that. With him here, I doubt any of the Centaurs will even get a millimetre close."

He smiled, seemingly satisfied.

"Where's Harry?" asked Rebecca.

"Still working at the Ministry, dealing with paperwork and everything. Looks like he'll be pulling another all night."

"Poor guy," she whispered in sympathy. She remembered all the late nights her father had had to do during his career as a politician. He had always looked so battered and exhausted when he eventually came home.

"Nah, he'll be fine. We're used to working odd hours, us."

She nodded. "Have there been any updates?"

He lost his smile. "Not…really."

"What do you mean?"

He paused, rubbing his hands together sheepishly.

"Ron?" said Hermione sternly.

He sighed. "It's nothing good, alright," he said, looking at Rebecca. "And it's nothing you didn't already know anyway."

"What?"

He sighed again. "Just that the Centaurs are starting to become more and more noticeable. A few muggles managed to get away, which means they know something now about Centaurs being in the city. I doubt they'll say anything, as who'd believe them? But they're out there. And…"

"And?"

He groaned. "Magorian still won't accept any kind of compromise, and if things keep going the way they are, not only will war will be inevitable, but it's doubtful any of us will be able to keep the secret of the wizarding community from muggles."

"You mean muggles will be finding out about you people?" asked Rebecca.

He nodded. "Our resources are stretched pretty thin. We're short staffed as it is, and so many of us are still recovering from the war with You-Know-Who. If a war with the Centaurs does break out, it's doubtful we'll be able to spare anyone to keep a lid on any magical revelations. So many wizards, magical creatures and such do keep slipping up, showing themselves to your people. If the Ministry officials weren't there to clean up after them, conceal their appearances, alter a few memories and stuff…it's most likely our secret would be out within a week, if not sooner."

None of them said anything for a while, and Rebecca just stayed sitting where she was, idly stirring her tea. When almost a full two minutes had passed, she finally got up and excused herself.

"Excuse me. If you don't mind, I would like to have a lie down. It's been a long day, you know."

Ron looked at her weirdly. "Err, yeah, sure. Go inside, ask my mom. She'll show you to one of the spare rooms."

"Thank you."

0000000000

**Next Morning: **

Rebecca had spent the rest of the day, and all night, within the spare room that Mrs. Weasley had lent her. She had been most kind to let her stay, but Molly Weasley had insisted, saying that it was good to have more people in the house again, as most of her children had moved out.

Not that Rebecca had been sleeping all that time. Far from it, as she hadn't really been that tired. She had just used that as an excuse to get away from them all, including Firenze.

She couldn't help it. What with Firenze, the herd, that demented witch, whoever she was, and now imminent war, and the existence of everything magic possibly being revealed to the whole world…she had just needed to go somewhere to be by herself for a while.

She had barely slept, and had just spent most of the last 16 hours or so lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Sighing, she gave in and got up. There was no point staying in this room any longer, as Harry, Mrs. Weasley or one of the others would most likely be in soon to wake her up or see if she needed anything.

She got out of bed, quickly dressed, and went to make her way to the bathroom…if she could remember where it was, that is. The hallways in this house were so awkward. She knew that as a magical house it had to be expected, but still it was so damn irritating. There were doors everywhere, far too many for a house that seemed as small as this one did from the outside.

After opening and closing about four doors, she finally found the right one to the bathroom, and went in to freshen up. As she did, she immediately heard her name being called.

"Rebecca!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called.

"Yes, ma'am?!" she called back.

"When you're ready, could you come down for a moment?! Harry's back, and wants a word!"

"Yes, I'll be down in just half an hour!" She frowned. 'Never fails, does it,' she thought. 'You get in the bathroom, and before you know it, there's a call for you.'

0000000000

After half an hour, Rebecca hurried downstairs. Normally, she spent at least an hour in the bathroom, getting ready, and that was just for her hair.

When she entered the living room, she found Harry sitting there with a cup of tea, waiting for her. Sitting beside him was a young redheaded girl, who Rebecca recognised from one of the photos in the clock.

"Morning, Rebecca dear!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as she came in with a cup of tea for her. "Oh, you haven't met Ginny, have you? She came home just after you went to bed." She proudly pointed to the redheaded female. "This is my daughter Ginevra, but we all call her Ginny."

"How do you do?" said Rebecca politely, smiling as she took the cup from Ginny's mother.

Ginny smiled back at her, and stood up to shake her hand. "Very well, thank you. Nice to meet you."

As they shook hands, Rebecca slightly tilted her head. "Gin-evra? That's Italian, do you know?"

"Yes?"

"Sorry, it's just that I live in Italy. I also work with art, and Ginevra is the name of a famous painting by Leonardo da Vinci."

Ginny's eyes widened a little. "Really? What painting? Do you work with famous artwork?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I wish. I do work in several galleries and art museums, but mostly I just repair old paintings that have grown old and worn, and work on my own art. Oh, and the painting I mentioned is called Ginevra de' Benci, named after an Italian aristocrat in the 15th century, a woman admired for her intelligence."

Ginny blushed a little. "Well, therein ends the similarity, as I'm hardly what you would call smart, Miss Leicester."

"I would," said Harry, as he closed his hand around hers, making her blush even more.

"What work do you do?" Ginny suddenly asked. "I mean, what kind of themes do you paint?"

Rebecca winced a little. "Mythical creatures. Mostly Centaurs."

Ginny laughed. "Makes sense, I guess. It's nice to know some good came out of your time with them."

"Yeah. By the way, where is Firenze?"

"He's still outside," answered Harry. "He spent most of last night patrolling the grounds, so he's sleeping it off."

"And looking at the sky," muttered Molly. "Hagrid was absolutely right about them Centaurs. Never looks at anything closer than the moon, Firenze does."

Rebecca remembered the late nights in the Herding Ground, when she had watched the Centaurs forever watching the skies, observing the stars, and trying to learn their secrets. She often wondered what Centaurs would do if they didn't have stars to look at. Not to mention where they found the energy. When she had been with them, some had stayed up all night stargazing, and yet somehow been up the next day hunting and practising their archery.

"Would you like us to call him in?" added Harry.

"No, that's alright. Let him rest. I'll go out and see him later. What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Well, we think we may have an ID on the woman who tried to abduct you at the Ministry." He reached into the holster under his jacket, and pulled out his wand. "Before anything else, can I just confirm with you that this is the woman in question?"

He made some swirling movements in the air before him, and a bright light lit up at the tip of his wand, which grew like a puff of smoke, and within moments a picture took form in the air above it.

After spending a day in the wizards' world, Rebecca was no longer surprised much by all the wizards' spells. Plus, she had seen a similar spell done once before, years ago with Firenze, when he had been telling the life-story of his race for her.

She stared intensely at the picture of the blonde-haired woman before her, and nodded. "Yes, that's her."

Harry nodded back. "We've managed to identify her then, as Miss Vanessa Darnell. She was one of the witches in the Typing Pool. One of her colleagues reported her as missing today, since she never showed up for work in the last two days."

"A typing pool?" said Rebecca, astounded. "What on earth would a secretary want with me?"

"That I can't answer. We've checked her records and history. She's been with the Ministry for years, working under the radar so to speak, in the secretarial department, mostly just typing or assisting any of the supervisors. Never been up for promotion, nor did she ever request for one apparently. Seems that to her the Ministry was just a job, nothing else. Didn't matter what, so long as she got paid."

"Have you managed to find her?"

"No. We checked her house, but there's no sign of her, and none of her neighbours had seen or heard anything. In fact, no one had even noticed she was gone till we started asking."

"What about her family? Didn't they miss her?"

He shook his head. "The only family she's got live abroad, only keep in contact through Christmas cards. As for friends, everyone she knew personally worked in the same pool as her."

"Why didn't they report her missing sooner?"

"Seems she had a habit of taking the odd day off, but only once in a while, and never more than one at a time. That's why they reported it today, since she's never gone off two days straight."

He frowned. "We've checked and rechecked everything. There's no mention of her ever having any kind of beef with any muggle. And she's never had anything to do with the Centaurs, or with anyone who has. During the war, she continued doing what she always did, which was her job, doing whatever people told her to do."

"And nothing whatsoever to do with me, too, I'm guessing?" asked Rebecca.

He shook his head again. "Not that we know of, or, as I said, with any other muggle apparently. The last kind of contact she or her family ever had with a muggle was her late grandfather, who was one."

"Who was that then?"

"Charles Darnell, worked in some slate mines, originally from Scotland, moved to London after he married Vanessa's grandmother. Didn't know anything of magic before he met her. Don't suppose there's any mention of a Darnell associated with your family?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Not that I know of." This time, she was the one who frowned. "Well, then…what the hell did she want with me? And why go to the trouble of trying to kidnap me in broad daylight from the Ministry itself?"

Harry grumbled. "I have absolutely no idea. Me, Ron, Hermione and everyone else from the available Aurors have been racking our brains trying to figure it out, but…there's just no connection! Nothing at all to suggest why she would want you, or why she would want to do something that could very well cause war between the Ministry and the Centaurs. The only way we can find out is to ask her, when we find her."

"I don't suppose you've had any luck in that either, I guess?"

"None yet, but we only just started looking today." He looked at her in sympathy with his bright green eyes. "We'll find her, I promise."

She sighed, and then paused. "Is there any chance this might not have anything to do with the Centaurs?"

"We thought about that, but like I said, there's no connection between her, your family nor any of hers. We can only assume this must have something to do with the Centaurs then. But what that is, we have no idea."

She chewed on her lower lip. "Could it have to do with something else then?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, what about those people you said you were at war with? You said they were against those who had any muggle blood in them. Maybe this Vanessa was one of them in secret, and she didn't take kindly to finding an actual muggle in the Ministry?"

Harry half-turned his head, as though considering, but in the end he shook his head. "I doubt it, Rebecca. We thoroughly checked her record out, and believe me, if there had been any connection between her and the Death Eaters, we would know about it. She never displayed any kind of loyalty to them, except for continuing to work for the Ministry while it was under their control, and even then she only did so because she needed the work."

"Plus, none of the former Death Eaters would be so stupid as to reveal themselves so openly like that," added Ginny suddenly. "Since the end of the war, and the death of their master, they've all gone underground, hiding from sight. I doubt they'd be brave enough to show their faces even to go shopping, let alone abduct someone from the Ministry itself."

Harry nodded. "She's right. I don't know why Vanessa Darnell has it in for you, Rebecca, but I promise you I will find out."

Rebecca just nodded.

Suddenly, there was a burst of fire from the fireplace, but no one came out of it. There was, however, what looked like to be some kind of disembodied head floating in the flames. Rebecca shrieked at the sight.

"It's okay!" Harry hastened to assure her, jumping up and heading over to the head. "It's the Floo Network. We use them like telephones."

He walked over to the fireplace, staring at the head, which was that of a dark-haired man with a long moustache. "Yes, Edwin?" he said.

Rebecca never bothered to ask, but the man, Edwin, was an employee of the Ministry. He worked there as a simple clerk, and was just calling Harry at the request of Ron.

"Just checking to make sure the Floo path is clear for some people to transport there," he said. "Don't want nobody losing their heads or nothing when a bunch of people come crashing through their fireplace."

"Who's coming?"

"Mr. Weasley, Ronald Weasley that is, and Imogen Griffin. Says you told them to stop by?"

Harry nodded. "Proceed when ready then."

He stepped back, as Edwin's face vanished, and a few moments later, a burst of emerald flames filled up the fireplace, depositing a young woman in a dark robe and pointy hat in its wake.

"Miss Griffin," Harry greeted her, offering her his hand to help her up.

The woman smiled, and graciously accepted, shaking his hand politely. She was a small witch, less than five feet and a few inches tall, and looked even younger than Harry, with a delicate but pale face, and long, dark black hair that framed it.

'Good lord, it's Wednesday Adams,' thought Rebecca. "Reminds me of Chloe's old look."

Her friend, Chloe, had once sported the whole dark and gloomy look when she had been a teenager, but had long since grown out of it, preferring more up-to-beat styles, with colour and fashion.

"Please, call me Imogen," said the young witch, quietly but politely, stepping out of the fireplace and gazing round at everyone. "You must be Mr. Weasley's wife and daughter. Pleased to meet you all."

Rebecca couldn't help sneaking a look back at Mrs. Weasley, and judging by the way she looked like she was scrutinizing _Imogen's_ clothes, she didn't think much of her appearance either.

Ginny noticed this also, and gently knocked her mother's shoulder, scowling. "Mom," she hissed at her. "Give it a rest, will ya?"

Molly gave her daughter a sideways glance. "I know Aurors, even young trainees, don't have to worry much about their appearance, when chasing down bad guys and all, but couldn't she…"

"Oh, come on, mom." Ginny giggled slightly. "It's no worse than what Tonks used to dress in."

At the mention of Tonks, Ginny and Molly both took on a sombre expression. Rebecca guessed that this Tonks, whoever he or she was, must have been yet another casualty in the wizards' war.

'Lord, how many friends and family did these people lose?' she wondered, amazed and saddened.

The young witch, Imogen, hadn't been paying attention to the Weasley's hushed conversation, and had immediately come to her. But even if she had pushed herself right up to her ear, Rebecca would have still had to strain to hear her. The girl was as quiet as a mouse.

"And you must be the muggle that I've been hearing so much about. Roberta Leicester?" asked Imogen.

She narrowed her eyes. "_Re-becca_," she corrected the young witch.

"My apologies," Imogen held up her hand, and then lowered it for a handshake. "I hope I will be of some use to you in the future."

Rebecca half-cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she meant by that, but took her offered hand, shaking it politely, and then looking over to Harry for an explanation.

"Imogen will be staying here with you for the day, as part of your extra security," he said.

"Isn't Firenze enough?" she asked, slightly surprised. She was used to having lots of security and bodyguards around her, as it had been necessary while she had been growing up, what with her being the daughter of a politician and all, but still she would have thought a Centaur warrior like Firenze would have been sufficient.

Harry shook his head sadly. "I don't doubt Firenze's abilities. On the contrary, I would trust him with my life and those of my loved ones. However, we know now that it's not just the Centaurs who are after you, but a witch as well. If she were to show up here, and possessed her wand, she could easily take out Firenze with one good stun spell, given half the chance. So it's best that we have at least one other security detail here who knows magic."

She couldn't argue with logic like that, so she nodded.

"Can I offer you some tea, dear?" said Molly, addressing Imogen probably for the first time.

"Yes, please, thank you."

"Do you take sugar?"

"Three teaspoons, please."

"My, haven't we a sweet-tooth."

As Molly left the room for the kitchen, Harry was giving Imogen a curious look. "I thought you didn't like sugar, Imogen?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I don't…when I'm at home with my parents. They don't like me having too many sweet things. Says it will rot my teeth."

Ginny laughed. "Been there, done that. Tried to play around it."

"_I heard that, young lady!"_ Molly's voice called from the kitchen.

Everyone laughed.

"So how long have you been an Auror?" Ginny asked.

Imogen shrugged. "Technically speaking, I'm not one now, at least not officially. I'm still in the middle of my training."

Rebecca raised her eyebrows at that, and Harry looked apologetically to her.

"Yeah, sorry about this, Rebecca," he said timidly. "I would get you some more personal guards, or at least one fully qualified one, but there's just no one available. The entire Ministry is spread pretty thin. Ever since your near capture by Aonghus yesterday, it seems like the Centaurs have re-doubled their efforts. We've had sightings of them all over the city, in every corner and alley."

Her face fell at that, so all she said was, "Okay, it's fine."

"But don't worry!" he hastened to reassure her. "Imogen here is the best out of all our Aurors in training. She knows more defence spells than any teacher at Hogwarts."

Rebecca didn't bother to correct him in saying that she wasn't bothered by the lack of a qualified Auror, but in the news that the Centaurs were still causing so much trouble for everyone because of her.

Imogen kept her face neutral. "I do my best," she replied quietly.

Everyone stayed silent after that, making Harry shuffle his shoes silently in awkwardness.

"Are the rest of your family up?" asked Rebecca finally. Since she had gone to her room and spent the night there, she hadn't met any of the rest of their family until now.

"My husband left for work early this morning," said Molly, as she came back in with the tea. "A shame, as he was dying to meet you. But I'm sure he can contain his excitement until tonight. Three sugars was it, dear?"

Imogen nodded, and accepted the cup from Mrs. Weasley, who began offering tea to everyone else.

"Sorry, mum," said Ginny. "I gotta go now, or I'll be late for practise."

Ginny had recently finished her final year at Hogwarts, which had not been easy considering all the trouble in the previous year, but due to everyone understanding the special circumstances (the war and all), and with extra help and vigorous study, she had managed to pull through.

She was now currently trying for a position with the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team. Because of her excellent Quidditch skills, not to mention all the stories that spoke of her during the war, and her being the official girlfriend of The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Harpies had been most eager to offer her a place. Although she still had to go through the tryouts, in the interest of fairness, it was only a formality, as she was already assured the position.

"All right, but try to be home on time for a change," her mother slightly abolished her.

"Can't promise that. You know how Quidditch trials go."

"Well, call next time you're going to be out until past eleven then!"

"Okay, okay." Ginny leaned forward, and kissed her mother goodbye, followed by another kiss that she gave to Harry, though theirs took significantly longer to finish.

"Ahem," Molly coughed slightly, making them break the kiss awkwardly.

"Uh-hem, yeah," said Harry, also coughing slightly. "I should go, too. Ministry is still awfully busy, you know."

"Yeah, I have to go, too," added Ginny, as she hastened over to the fireplace. "I'll see you all later!"

"Bye, love," said Molly, waving goodbye.

Rebecca watched all this with mild amusement, and with modest awe as Ginny took out some of the silvery Floo powder from a flowerpot on the mantelpiece, tossed a handful of it into the fireplace, and then called out, "Holyhead!" After which, she walked into the fireplace that had then sprung up with the usual green flames, which she then walked into, disappearing from sight a moment later. Harry soon followed after, after saying goodbye to everyone, and assuring her (again) that everything would be fine.

'If everything's going to be fine, then why is it just getting worse every day?' she thought sadly.

"Right!" Molly said brightly. "Who's up for some breakfast? Imogen dear, have you eaten? Rebecca, I know you haven't yet. I've got some scones leftover, and some toast I think, and…"

**To Be Continued…**


	8. Chapter 7

**_CHAPTER 7_**

**_Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!_**

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**The Burrow: **

Molly had once again fixed a feast big enough to feed an entire army, up to the point where Rebecca felt herself close to bursting. She guessed that after raising a family of seven children, Molly had to be used to preparing large meals, to which she had jokily admitted.

During breakfast, they had chatted, and Rebecca had learned that one of the twins, who she had seen in the picture on the clock, Fred, had indeed perished in the wizards' war. Molly hadn't said much about him; only that he had died fighting in the last battle. She grieved for him, obviously, but she had also spoken of him with a large amount of pride. He had died fighting for what he believed in, to free their world from Voldemort's tyranny.

She only spoke about him for a short time, before she quickly changed the subject, turning to Imogen and asking her about her family, and how they coped during the war.

Rebecca hadn't paid much attention to that, as Imogen and her parents hadn't really been involved in the war at all. They had fled the country the moment that news of Voldemort's return had been announced, fleeing to America, where they had stayed with relatives, only returning once news of Voldemort's final defeat had been assured.

However, it was during this discussion that Rebecca learned from them that Voldemort had tried not once but twice to take over the wizarding world. The first time had been nearly twenty years ago, when he had been defeated, and had been severely damaged because of it. Rebecca found some of what they said a little hard to digest, but, apparently, Voldemort's body had been destroyed yet he had still somehow managed to stay alive, long enough for him to build himself a new body about a decade later. After which, he had tried to take over the wizarding world again, this time succeeding, if only for a short time.

Harry Potter had apparently been there at the time of his resurrection, and though he had tried to warn everyone, there were those who basically didn't believe him, and had even called him a liar.

Rebecca felt a little outraged at that, and wondered how anyone could think that Harry, whom she had been told had always been referred to as a respected and revered figure in their world, would lie about anything, especially something as awful and important like that.

Molly told her that it had been a simple case of fear, and that everyone was basically too scared, and preferred to believe that Harry was lying instead of the terrible truth that Voldemort was back, and the war was about to start again.

As for Imogen, she had only been a young girl at the time, and had barely started Hogwarts, but her parents had been some of those who had believed Harry inexplicably, and had immediately pulled her out of school and ran to America before the second war had begun.

Personally, Rebecca thought that a little cowardly of them, but then again she had never been involved in any kind of war, let alone the one they had had to face, so who was she to judge?

They had just been about to dig into their third helping of scrambled eggs and bacon (despite Rebecca insisting that she was quite full) when a knock sounded on the front door, startling them a little.

Imogen immediately rose up, her wand at the ready, as she inched closer to the door, looking out the window. When she did, she relaxed, and opened the door, calling out, "It's alright, it's friends".

When she opened the door, two people walked in. One was a tall and big rounded man in a brown robe, with a black goatee, and dark hair that was longer than Rebecca's. The other was a tall, thin woman in a black robe with silver moons and stars embroided on it, dark blonde hair that Rebecca could just barely make out under her pointy hat, her face plastered with what was clearly a fake smile.

"Imogen," the woman said politely, sounding as fake as the politicians Rebecca had met countless times at her father's parties. "Wonderful to see you again."

"You, too," Imogen replied emotionlessly.

"And this must be our muggle charge, I take it?" the man added cheerfully, looking at Rebecca, and then at Molly. "Molly Weasley I presume? Great to meet ya! Arthur's spoken a lot about you."

"Charge?" said Imogen, quirking an eyebrow at them. "I thought I was to be her guardian? And forgive me, but don't you two work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

"Miss Granger asked us to come here and help out," the woman added. "Although we are not qualified Aurors, we both have had extensive experience with dealing with dangerous creatures over the years, and know a number of spells. And considering that all the Aurors are too busy with the Centaurs to help out here, Miss Granger thought you'd be grateful of the extra help."

"Excuse me," Molly interrupted. "But who exactly are you two?"

"My apologies," the man said, bowing before her. "Name's Abraham, Abraham Bollard. Pleased to meet ya!"

"Oh yes!" said Molly, as she remembered. "Arthur's mentioned you a couple of times. Says you're quite the chess player."

He grinned. "Haven't lost a match yet."

Imogen pointed over to the woman. "This is Meredith Pan."

"Oh yeah, sorry. My bad," the wizard, Abraham, said jokily, and then pointed at his companion. "My colleague!"

Meredith merely nodded at them, ever with that same fake smile seemingly painted on her face.

"Now, what's one gotta do to get a cuppa?!" Abraham declared, clapping his hands together.

"Oh yes, of course," Molly hurried into the kitchen to get a fresh pot, while the large wizard parked himself in the armchair.

'He knows how to make himself at home, doesn't he,' thought Rebecca.

Meredith stayed where she was, looking keenly at her. Rebecca didn't like the look she was giving her, as it made her feel like an experiment in a test-tube.

"You must be Miss Rebecca Leicester, correct?" she asked in a shrill voice.

"Yes," she replied in a quiet but polite tone. She had long since learned this from the endless days spent at her father's party functions while she was growing up. "Very pleased to meet you."

She had always referred to this as the fake tone game. She had done so since she was a child, playing polite when what she really wanted to do was stick her tongue out at them all.

"You, too," said Meredith, and made to sit down, as Molly came in with the tea. "I must say I was surprised when I heard about the Centaurs coming after a muggle of all people. I hadn't even heard of them meeting another human woman before Miss Granger in the Forbidden Forest, let alone a non-magical person."

"It's not something I would normally broadcast," she joked, to which Meredith smiled, but said nothing.

Molly offered them all tea, which they gratefully accepted. Meredith and Imogen kept quiet, while Mr. Bollard boasted in that loud voice of his, talking about his various cases with dangerous beasts, from Manticores to something called a Skrewt…whatever that was.

As he went off into his third story of yet another dangerous and hard-to-capture beast, Rebecca looked around to find all the ladies looking ready to doze off. She was about to make an excuse and head off into the garden to look for Firenze, as she still needed to talk to him, when she heard a deep purring sound coming from her feet.

Looking down in surprise, she found a very large, orange-coloured cat, with a squashed face, rubbing itself against her leg, purring loudly. It looked like a Persian cat, but with smaller eyes.

"Oh, that's Crookshanks!" said Molly quickly, most likely glad for the excuse to interrupt Abraham before he began yet another of his timeless tales. "He's Hermione's cat. She usually leaves him here with us, whenever she's busy with work, and considering the way the Ministry is at the moment, she thought it best to leave him here until things calm down."

Rebecca smiled down at the odd looking creature, and reached down to scratch behind its ears, to which it purred even louder. She doubted even a lion's roar was as loud as this cat's purr.

"Ohhh, what a cutie!" Abraham exclaimed, diverted from his insistent chattering, as he looked down at the big feline. Personally, Rebecca wouldn't have called him cute, as he looked a bit tatty to her, but that wasn't what stopped her from scratching the cat's ears at that moment.

The way the man had just said that, his words, his tone…they had been exactly the same as the man she had thought to be John Doncaster. And hadn't Harry warned her about something called _pumpkin juice potion_ that could turn someone into someone else?

She must have sat frozen where she was for over a minute, before the concerned voice of Mrs. Weasley brought her back.

"Are you all right, Rebecca dear?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes, yes!" she hastened to reassure her, not wanting to give the Burrow's newest _guests_ any hint of her suspicions. "I'm fine. Just spaced out for a minute there."

Mr. Bollard was, at that moment, trying to beckon Crookshanks over to him, making kissing noises, and twiddling his finger at him. The cat took one or two steps over to him, seeming as though it were trying to figure him out, before it hissed and hastily backed away.

Rebecca watched it, as it practically flew from the room, out one of the open windows, and into the garden.

Abraham watched it go for a few seconds, before breaking out into a huge laughter. "Guess I'm not as good with animals as I thought I was, huh, Merry?!"

She didn't know whom he was talking to at first, until she realised that Merry had to be Meredith.

"When have you ever?" the woman replied, making the man turn red for a second.

'This man is supposed to work in a department that deals with dangerous beasts,' Rebecca thought. 'If that's true, then why did he have a problem dealing with a mere cat?'

Meredith Pan then put down her teacup, and rose. "I think I'll go check outside, just in case," she said, as she made her way to the back garden.

"Try not to get lost!" Abraham joked behind her.

Rebecca didn't take her eyes off of him. She couldn't. Already, conspiracies and scenarios were playing in her mind, making her wonder if this man was who he said he was. What if he wasn't? What if he was the witch who tried to abduct her, or the one who was pretending to be John Doncaster, or maybe both?

As he started going off into yet another one of his boring stories, making the other ladies sigh, Rebecca kept her eyes on him. She didn't know precisely what it was she was looking for, but she would know when she saw it. Perhaps another word or sentence, or something about the way he moved, which looked or felt similar to the other two impostors.

She did not have long to ponder this, though, for less then a few seconds later, a shrill scream tore out from the back of the house, making everyone jump.

Imogen immediately took out her wand, as did Abraham, who had also jumped up from his seat, and hurried out into the direction of the garden.

"Stay here," Imogen told Rebecca, but she had no intention to do so. If what she suspected was true about Mr. Bollard, or whoever he was, then she needed to keep him in her sight at all times.

The three of them, with Molly right behind them, who also didn't want to let Rebecca out of her sight, raced through the house, to the open back-door. When they got her, they found a queer sight before them.

Meredith was lying on the floor, right before the back-door, shaking in shock. Her wand was slightly raised, as she stared up at the frame of the door, which was filled with a horse's large backside.

It took Rebecca a second to realise that it was Firenze in the doorframe, and a second longer for her to stop her security from attacking him on sight.

"Don't fire!" she and Molly both yelled, stopping the others from shooting at the Centaur. "He's a friend!"

The end with the horse's tail, or Centaur's tail as it were, had already started to move forward and turn around. Before long, Firenze's face was looking in at them, a curious and worried look on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Firenze had woken up several minutes ago, and had gone up to the house to check in on Rebecca. He had looked in through the window, and seen her and Molly with two unfamiliar witches and a wizard. But the lot of them all seemed to be in good spirits, and the house appeared to be well protected, so he assumed they were just some new guards for Rebecca, or perhaps some people from the Ministry delivering a new report.

With that reassurance in his mind, he had returned to the back of the house, where Molly had left him a plate with some breakfast on the outside table. It wasn't the same as what he was used to eating, which was fresh kill, hunted in the Forbidden Forest. It was also nowhere near enough for his Centaur appetite, but it was better than nothing, and he could always eat some fruit from the Weasley's orchard.

Centaurs had enormous appetites, due to them having two stomachs, one in their human half, and the other in their horse half. Each time Rebecca had joined his herd for dinner, she had always arrived a little late, so she had never seen the feast they prepared in full glory. Molly Weasley was known to cook enough to feed an entire army, but compared to a Centaur's meal, her entire cooking wasn't enough for an appetiser.

With his plate, Firenze had walked back up to the house, pressing his back-end to the back-door, so that he could look out, and have a full clear view of the garden and the grounds behind it. It gave him a tactical advantage, as with his Centaur eyes he would be able to see if anyone was coming.

He had been in the middle of eating his meal, when something had bumped into the back of him, followed by what had sounded like a Banshee's scream. The scream had, of course, belonged to none other than Meredith Pan. She had made it to the back door, opened it, and prepared to go out into the garden to begin her security checks, only to come face-to-face with a Centaur's tail, giving her the shock of her life.

Actually, shock would be a meagre description of her reaction, as not only had her scream echoed across the whole countryside, but also she had tried unsuccessfully to run back through the house, only to fall onto her rear, and couldn't seem to gather up the courage to raise her wand, even now.

"Sorry, Firenze," said Molly from behind the trio. "This is Mr. Abraham Bollard, and Miss Meredith Pan, from the Ministry. They came to help protect Rebecca, but I guess everyone forgot to tell them about you."

"No, no," said Mr. Bollard, putting away his wand, but never taking his eyes away from Firenze. "We were briefed before we came. I guess Merry must have forgot for a second." He looked down to his colleague, who had not gotten up yet, and was still looking at the huge Centaur with eyes full of fear.

"Come on, Merry, you've seen worse before," he told her, grabbing her arm and hoisting her up. "Remember that toad that could spew fire? Bred by that loony witch that used to…" As he guided Meredith back into the living room, Rebecca, Firenze and Molly both watched them curiously.

Finally, Molly just shook her head and went to retrieve the plate from Firenze. "Honestly," she muttered. "For someone who's worked her whole life tracking and containing dangerous beasts, you'd think she'd have a bit more nerve when it came to meeting a Centaur."

Rebecca gave a short giggle. "Maybe it was the part of running into Firenze's backside and having her hands on it that ruined it for her."

Molly blushed. "Even so. Screaming like that? Total over reaction, if you ask me. As if people didn't know what a hors…Sorry!" she said hasteningly, looking at Firenze and his stern look. "As if people didn't know what a _Centaur's_…err, personal area looked like. Would you like seconds, Firenze?"

"Please," he replied thankfully, handing her his place, which she took and hurried back into the kitchen with.

Rebecca couldn't stop giggling, as the image of Meredith lying on the floor replayed in her mind again. She had to admit that Molly was right; for someone who had worked her whole career going after dangerous beasts, you'd think she'd have a bit more bravery in her.

Firenze cocked an eye-ridge at her. "Something amusing?" he asked.

She finally got a hold of herself, and shook her head. "Sorry, Firenze. It's nothing." She looked back to where Abraham had taken Miss Pan back into the living room. "I guess Miss Pan's work with dangerous beasts was restricted to doing just the paperwork."

She suddenly stopped, and looked up at him in shock. "Oh Firenze, I'm so sorry!"

He looked at her quizzically. "For what?"

"I didn't mean you were a dangerous beast."

Both his eyeridges rose at her. "Really? I was actually flattered by that."

"Flattered?"

He laughed broadly at her. "My dear Rebecca, you forget. My kind doesn't like our status to be known as that of Beings. We never have. We prefer to be referred to as mere beasts. In fact, calling one of us a _dangerous beast_ is considered quite a compliment in my herd. It's only when someone calls us a half-breed, a man or a horse that they risk our wrath."

Rebecca mentally rebuked herself, having forgotten that chapter from the Centaur's past. Firenze had told her once that his race had indeed been offered the social status of Beings, but they had refused it when they had learned that they would have to share that title with other such creatures like the Hags and Vampires.

"Would you care to greet the day with me?" he suddenly asked her, offering her his arm.

She smiled. "I'd be delighted," she said truthfully, and hooked her arm with his, walking beside him out of the house and into the warm sun and fresh morning air.

As they walked out to the garden, beyond the trees and the orchard, Rebecca enjoyed listening to the morning song of the numerous birds in the trees, and feeling the sun shining on her skin. As she looked on, she remembered how it had been, the first morning in the Forbidden Forest, with the Centaurs. She remembered the first time she had witnessed the morning in the forest, and thinking it one of the most beautiful scenes she had ever seen before in her life.

'I must make some time to go visit the country more often,' she thought determinedly.

She and Firenze had walked a littler farther beyond the orchard trees, when suddenly he stopped and looked keenly at her, his blue eyes twinkling right at her.

"The morning light suits you, my Rebecca," he told her, raising his hand to gently stroke her cheek.

She then lost whatever sense of contentment she had had, and looked at him sadly. "Firenze," she said quietly, touching his hand with her own, and gently pulling it down away from her face. "I have to tell you something."

"I know."

"You do?" She looked up at him quizzically. "How… What do you know?"

He took both of her hands in his, and stared deep into her eyes with his own pure blue ones.

"I know how terribly confusing this must be for you," he explained. "Us meeting again after so long."

She sighed mildly in relief. "Yes, that's exactly it, Firenze. I mean, after I met you again after so many years…I guess when I saw you, I felt exactly as I did the last time that I saw you, and I just… Well, I guess some of the old feelings just started sprouting back up again, and I…"

She stopped, as Firenze had placed his fingers on her lip, silencing her.

"There is no need to worry anymore," he told her.

"Huh?"

He took hold of her hands again. "Things are different now. Back when we last parted company, I was still one with my herd. And although I am back with them now, I am only with them a small fraction of my time, due to my teaching position at Hogwarts."

She stared blankly at him.

"There was no way we could have been together years ago, but now it's all different. With me at Hogwarts, you no longer have to worry about coming to live with my herd, should you and I mate."

'Oh…darn,' she thought. She had thought for a moment that Firenze had figured everything out without her saying anything, but it seemed that fate wasn't being kind to her today. Firenze was basically telling her how she and he could now live together as mates.

She couldn't believe how wrong he had got it.

"Firenze!" she said firmly. "That's not it at all."

He looked at her, confusion on his face. "Then…what is it?"

She sighed. "Look; like I told you, and what you just said, meeting up with you again stirred up some old feelings for me. I was feeling the same way as I did when we last met. I was confused and…and…and are you even listening to me?!"

But it didn't seem that Firenze was. His face had moved away from hers, and his long ears were now perked up, as though listening to something. But whatever it was that he was listening to, it was definitely not she.

"I don't believe this," said Rebecca irritably. "Firenze, I've got something really important to say to you, and you…"

"Get back to the house, now!" Firenze's normally gentle voice was now filled with urgency, and laden with a hard edge.

"Huh? What's the…?" But she didn't get a chance to finish, as Firenze suddenly swooped her up into his arms, and began galloping across the field, back to the Burrow, with Rebecca bouncing in his grasp, shrieking all the way.

"FIR…EN…ZE!" she screamed between bumps.

They arrived back at the Weasley's house before she had even finished screaming his name, as he reached the back door, and hasteningly flung her through it.

"Aurors, Molly Weasley, to me!" he cried out, ordering the wizard and three witches to come to him.

"What's going on?" Molly demanded, as she rushed up to them, and started helping a shaken Rebecca to her feet. Rebecca was looking incredously at the Centaur, wondering what could have gotten his ire up like this.

"Get Rebecca out of here immediately! And tell those new Aurors to contact Harry Potter at once! My herd is here!"

"Your herd is WHAT?!"

"They are here!" he bellowed. "Now stop wasting time and get moving!"

With that, Firenze turned around and galloped back over to the trees, racing through them. As he did, Rebecca could hear a thundering sound coming from beyond them; a sound she first mistook for mere thunder, but then quickly realised that it was the same as Firenze. It was the loud sound of numerous hooves racing towards them, the sound that could only belong to more than one horse or Centaur, galloping across land.

Firenze was indeed correct; the Centaurs were here!

"Come on, dear!" said Molly hurriedly, holding her by the arm and leading her back to the living room, intending to use the Floo thing to get them both out of there.

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Firenze galloped over the Burrow's garden, snapping his way through the trees' branches, his eyes in front all the time. As he ran, he couldn't stop wondering how on earth his herd had managed to find Rebecca so soon? Yes, Centaurs were great trackers, but he and Harry Potter had worked hard to ensure Rebecca's hiding place was a secret. The reason they had brought her to the Burrow in the first place was because none of his herd knew anything of the Weasleys or their home, having never met any of them except for briefly at the Battle of Hogwarts.

His thoughts were soon interrupted, though, as his herd came into view.

He cursed; as he watched close to a dozen of his people push through the outer trees, heading towards the Burrow. Magorian was there, of course, for as leader it was expected of him, and Adair and a reluctant Ronan followed him.

Firenze wasn't surprised to see Adair there. Adair had been Rebecca's keeper during her stay in the Forbidden Forest, not to mention she had tried seducing him as an earlier attempt to escape. He obviously intended to have her keep that promise.

Ronan, though, was a surprise. Although it was no secret that he disliked humans (not as greatly as Bane, but still), he had never been the keenest of fighters. He had always been the most doleful and sensitive one of their herd, and preferred to leave violence as a last resort, and never to harm young ones.

The rest of the herd followed them out, but Firenze did not bother to peer closer at their faces, to learn who they were, though he did take note of one face that wasn't among the crowd…Bane. He wasn't with them, which was a shock, considering Firenze thought he would have been there at the lead.

As they trotted towards him, Firenze kept still and awaited their arrival, taking note of their expressions. Magorian had on him that seemingly permanent scowl, his dark hair flowing behind him, as he walked forward. Adair wore an expression of eagerness, no doubt waiting for what he expected to be a battle with humans to begin, or for the long awaited capture of Rebecca.

"Firenze," said Magorian with a scowl. "Why are you here?"

"I learned that Rebecca Leicester was here."

"And you came here to apprehend her for us?" said Adair, though he did so with faint humour, as he didn't expect to hear a yes from him in the least.

Firenze spared him a glance, and confirmed for him, "No, I did not."

He knew he was risking banishment again, but he still could not bring himself to lie to his own herd, his honour and dignity as a Centaur not allowing him, even though he knew that if he were to be sent into exile again, there would be no return for him this time. A Centaur could be forgiven and exonerated only so many times. In fact, before he, no Centaur had ever been forgiven and exonerated, as it was not their way.

Despite all the headway his kind had made with the wizards in the past year, they still stuck to many of the ancient laws of their race.

Adair narrowed his eyes at him. "So why are you here? Come to guard her from us?" At this, the others grew tense.

Firenze clenched his fists for a moment, wanting very much to confirm Adair's suspicions. But as before, Firenze was unable to do so, his sworn oath to serve his herd and entire race forbidding him.

"You know I will never fight you or any of our herd, my brother," he said calmly. "But neither will I help you track down and abduct one of my friends."

"HA!" Adair laughed. "Friend?! The Rebecca woman is merely a Breeder, someone with whom we can replenish some of our lost members with. She is a source for fresh blood, and for some physical enjoyment, nothing more."

Firenze stared hard at him. "Not to me, she isn't."

His words were simple and few, yet he spoke them with a hard edge, one that not even his clan could ignore.

Ronan was giving him a curious look, Adair gave him a look of scorn mixed with eagerness for battle, but Magorian was staring at him most thoughtfully.

"Firenze," he asked, "do you wish this female to be your betrothed?"

The sudden question threw him off slightly, and Firenze almost stuttered in surprise. "I…yes," he admitted. "Although not much time has passed since we have been reunited, I strongly feel the pull that we once had, now strengthened with time. I believe I see the same spark within her also."

Adair scoffed. "Foal love!" he assured them. "It's nothing more than that. Next he'll be telling us his heart beats for no one but her."

Magorian said nothing for a moment or two, but then gave a quiet sigh, as he stared regretfully at the younger Centaur. "I wish you had acted upon these feelings several years ago, Firenze. If so, we could have avoided all this hassle." He shifted his weight on his hooves. "But whether you desire her to be yours or not, it makes no difference. Even if you take or have already taken her, it still won't change anything."

He seemed to grow tenser, as his legs moved back and forth, as though eager to start running.

"The Fates have already chosen for us our path. We made our vow long ago, by warning her of her fate, should she break her word and turn against us. She did, and in doing so she sealed all of our destinies."

"Even if keeping such a vow will bring war upon us, and in time total devastation not only upon the wizards but on us as well?"

Magorian closed his eyes briefly, only to open them and look straight at him. "The laws of our race are strict and seem unforgiving, but they are a part of who and what we are. We must honour them, even if it means death in the process."

"And die we shall," Firenze replied. "For it will be a miracle if any of our herd shall survive this coming war."

They all kept silent then, though only for another moment, and then Adair stated, "Do you intend to stop us then, Firenze?!"

He shook his head. "As I said, I will not fight any in my herd, but neither will I help you."

"Then stand aside and let us pass!" he demanded, as he kicked his legs out from under him in anticipation.

Firenze gave one final sigh, and took a few steps to the right. "You'll forgive me if I don't wish you luck."

The others didn't answer him, and just trotted past, the rest of their party following them.

Firenze looked back to the trees that hid the Burrow from sight. He hadn't stopped the herd from coming, but he had managed to delay them a few minutes, which should have given Rebecca able time to escape through that Floo Network the wizards had.

All he had to do now was wait until the other Centaurs had gone, and then he would make contact with Harry Potter to rejoin Rebecca.

He waited a few moments, only to rear up in surprise, as a loud bang suddenly echoed around him, sounding like it had come from the Burrow itself.

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"Quick! Get the Floo powder. We'll go straight to the Ministry." urged Molly, as she ran into the living room with Rebecca in her grasp.

"Where is it?" asked Imogen.

"In the flowerpot over the fireplace."

Rebecca couldn't help glancing back, again and again, as though any second the Centaurs would knock down the Weasley's back-door with their hooves, and come storming in to grab her, which she knew was a very likely outcome.

"I can't find it," Imogen said.

"What?!" Molly shrieked.

"I can't find the Floo Powder. There's a flowerpot here, but it's empty."

"Nonsense!" Molly hurried past Abraham and Meredith, leaving Rebecca between them. "I always keep the pot full! Whoever heard of…" But she was soon to eat her words, as when she took the pot from the young girl, all she had in her hands was an empty pot, with only a slight cover of silver powder barely covering the bottom of it, not enough to Floo a rat, let alone a person.

"But I refilled this only last night!" insisted Molly.

"Never mind that now!" said Meredith, looking uncertainly around her, as though she were expecting the Centaurs to start crashing through the walls in on them. "What are we going to do?! There's no Floo Powder, which we can't leave or send a message without, and none of us can Apparate!"

"Keep calm," said Imogen quietly. Abraham just kept silent.

"Keep calm? How am I supposed to keep calm?! We've got a whole herd of Centaurs about to beat down the doors on us!"

"Oh do hush up!" snapped Molly angrily, as she put the pot down, and walked over to Rebecca. "Don't worry, dear," she said reassuredly. "Everything's going to be fine."

"How do you figure that?!" Meredith panicked.

Molly turned to glare at her. 'Definitely not one of the Ministry's bravest,' she thought. "We don't have time for negativity," she said aloud. "We need options, or else you're right, we're in trouble. Now think, what can we do?"

"Abs, what about your mirror?!" Meredith suddenly realised.

"My…what?" he said, looking at her in bewilderment.

"Your mirror! The one you said forms a link to one of the secretaries in our offices. Use it to contact them and send help."

"But I…I don't know…" he stuttered pathetically, but slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pocket-mirror, like the kind that ladies had with make-up. "I don't know if it'll work this far out…"

"Oh, don't be so stupid!" she reached to grab the mirror, yet he seemed hesitant on releasing it, though.

"Give it here!" Molly snapped, instantly grabbing the mirror and ripping it from both of their grasps. "How does it work?!"

"Umm, well, you just…" he stuttered again, yet thankfully he needn't have bothered saying anything this time, as the mirror seemed to have begun to work the moment Molly had opened it.

The glass glowed brightly for a second, before dimming down, to reveal a young woman's face smiling out of it.

"_Abby, you naughty boy. I've told you before you can't…OH!"_ the woman shrieked, as she realised the person on the mirror wasn't Abraham Bollard, as she had no doubt been expecting.

"_I'm sorry!"_ she said hurriedly. _"I thought…"_

"Never mind that now!" said Molly, ignoring the red face of Mr. Bollard. "This is Molly Weasley at the Burrow. Contact Harry Potter immediately, and tell him he has to send a team to us at once. The Centaurs have found us!"

"Huh? What's…?"

"JUST HURRY UP AND CALL HIM!" Molly's voice screamed into the mirror, making the woman shriek again, along with everybody else in the room, and ending the conversation. The glass then glowed again briefly, before dulling again, and turned back into an ordinary mirror.

With everything that had just happened, Rebecca hadn't noticed until now that the sound of the Centaur herd's thundering hooves had stopped. Imogen had apparently noticed, too, and was making her way over to the back windows, taking a look outside.

"I can see some of them just beyond the trees," she said. "They must have confronted Firenze."

"Will he be able to hold them back for long?" said Meredith shrilly.

"Firenze won't fight his own herd," Rebecca answered for her. "The best we can hope for is that he'll be able to stall them."

Abraham snorted. "Not much of a friend then, is he."

Rebecca glared at him. "He's not willing to kill his own people, especially when there's so few of them left, if _that's_ what you mean! Don't forget that this isn't just his race he's facing out there, but also his family! How much better do you think you'd do if you were in his place?!"

The man gave another snort, but said nothing, turning away to look out the window. "Either way, unless Harry Potter gets here quick, we're gonna be in…"

"They're coming!" Meredith shrieked hysterically, pointing out the window. She seemed to becoming more panicked by the second, and Rebecca couldn't help but wonder if she had any personal beef with the Centaurs, or if they were just a race that gave her the creeps.

There were close to a dozen Centaurs approaching them. Some looked grim at what they were there to do, others looked calm but focused, and some looked almost overjoyed at the coming battle. She could easily pick out the face that one of the latter belonged to, as a muddy brown Centaur walked forth.

'Adair,' she thought bitterly. She had had a feeling that she was due to meet him sooner or later. He had treated her pretty much like the prisoner she had been years ago, or worse, as your basic farm animal. He had just been missing his whip or leash to hold her with. Part of her wouldn't be surprised if that was what he had planned for her, assuming they caught her and brought her back to the Herding Ground.

"Barricade the house!" shouted Abraham, flinging his wand up high, reciting a spell she didn't understand, followed by the bangs of every window and door in the house slamming shut. The rest of them followed his example, hurrying to look out the windows, their wands out and ready.

When they looked outside, they saw the Centaurs racing closer to the house. After seeing the windows and doors slam shut, they had quickened their pace, obviously not keen to risk losing Rebecca again.

A second later, one of them (they couldn't see which one) banged on the back-door, yelling out with his booming voice, "Listen, humans! We have no quarrel with you! We seek only the non-witch you have with you, the one called Rebecca! Hand her over, and the rest of you will be left in peace!"

All of them were holding their wands shakily, save for Rebecca who had none. Meredith was the worst, as she looked like she was about to have a seizure. Abraham was not much better, but at least he was holding his wand steady. Imogen looked like she was completely at ease, except for the layer of cold sweat that Rebecca could see on her forehead. Molly appeared the calmest, most likely because she had been through this king of thing before, with the war.

"We won't do that, Centaur!" Molly yelled out in reply. "I know you fought with us at the Battle of Hogwarts, and we wizards will be forever grateful to you for that, but that does not give you the right to come steal this girl from her home and family!"

"Our choice is made, human! Nothing you say will change that!"

"But surely there must be…"

"Expulso!" Imogen suddenly cried out, followed by a loud booming bang outside, echoed by the outraged and pain-filled cries of the Centaurs. Rebecca yelped, grabbing her chest in surprise.

"Miss Griffin!" yelled Molly. "What did you do?!"

"They were about to come in," replied Imogen, her voice sounding strained. "I panicked, and did what I thought I needed to do."

"Excuse me, but _what_ have you done?" asked Rebecca, her ears ringing from the explosion, if that was what it had been.

"A simple spell used to make something explode," the young woman answered. "I used it to make that shed outside to blow up. Just something to startle them and keep them busy. It'll give us time till Harry Potter returns."

The spell she had used had been a powerful charm that causes items to explode. It was similar to the Blasting Curse, which also caused targets to explode, though the Blasting Curse used heat (like a bomb), while Expulso used pressure (like when the air pressure in a pipe grew too strong).

"And what do you think the Centaurs are going to do to us now?!" said Molly shrilly. "Do you think they'll be willing to listen or talk after the huge bang you have just given them?!"

"They weren't exactly willing before," countered Imogen.

Rebecca ignored them, as they started trading insults, and looked outside. Sure enough, the Centaurs were all scattered at the moment, as there were large pieces of the old shed, and various other pieces of the Burrow's garden everywhere. But that wasn't the only thing…

"The Centaurs!" she breathed out in shock and dismay. "What have you done to them?!"

None of the Centaurs appeared dead, thankfully, but there were more than a few lying dazed and injured, slash-marks on their flesh, and blood flowing from various cuts and wounds that they had received from flying pieces of timber and stone.

"I told you, only what…" started Imogen.

"There was no need to throw a bomb at them!" Rebecca rounded on her, glaring daggers. "You could have killed someone!"

"In case you've forgotten, Miss Leicester…this is war. Chances are at least a few on either side are gonna get killed at some point."

"And now, thanks to you, the chances of that war have gotten even greater than before!"

Imogen thinned her eyes at her, but before anyone could say anything further, a loud neighing sound came from outside. When Rebecca looked, she saw the Centaurs that were uninjured and still conscious, rising on their hooves, and glaring murderously at the house. Before long, all of them were neighing and shouting loudly, charging at the house with their bows raised high.

"Do you think any of your protection charms will work against them?" she asked Molly.

She sprang backwards, away from the window, as one Centaur reared up on his back-legs, and began beating down on the side of the house with his large hooves. The window shattered, sending shards of broken glass forward, and Molly grabbed Rebecca's hand, rushing her into the living room, the rest hurrying after them.

"I guess not."

The Centaurs had now surrounded the house, each following the example of the first Centaur, rearing up and battering the walls, windows and doors with their large, hard and heavy hooves. They sent clouds of dust, showers of glass, and loosened bricks tumbling down around them. Rebecca didn't expect the house to hold for long.

Meredith was already whimpering, Abraham had his wand out, but looked unsure of what to do, Molly was embracing Rebecca as though trying to protect her, like a mother with her child, and Imogen just remained still and emotionless as a statue.

'This is it,' thought Rebecca fearfully. 'They're going to get me.'

She thought of Firenze, and wondered if he could help her, but soon dismissed that. The only way he could help her now was if he took up arms and fought against his own herd, and she knew he would never do that.

The doors shuddered under the heavy blows, the hinges looking and sounding as though they were ready to break off at any second.

She slowly raised her arms to embrace Molly, who still continued to hold her tightly. Standing like that reminded her of when she was a child, being hugged by her mother whenever she had been frightened or sad. She wished her own mother were there.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack, like a whip, which sounded right behind them, making all of them jump.

Harry Potter stood, bent over slightly, and gasping heavily, right in front of the fireplace. Rebecca first thought he must have Flooed in, except that she had seen none of the green flames.

"Sorry!" he gasped. "I got here as soon as I heard."

Molly gave a sigh of relief. "Took your sweet time getting here, Harry dear. Not slowing down, are you?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Happens to the best of us, or so I'm told."

"Excuse me," stuttered Rebecca, "but where did you…"

"I Apparated," he explained hurriedly. "But never mind that now. Let's get you out of here."

"Apparated?" She frowned, as she recalled him mentioning that word before, when they had first brought her here to the Burrow. "That other form of travel you wizards use, which you were gonna use to bring Firenze here?"

"Yeah," said Harry, as he grabbed her arm. "I'll come back for the rest of you once I've dropped off Miss Leicester," he told the rest of them.

"But why didn't you Apparate him here yourself, instead of waiting for someone else to do it?"

"I was too busy. Plus, I tend not to do any Apparating if I can help it."

"Why not?"

Harry's face took on a grimace, as he stood side by side with her, with more bricks breaking away from the wall in front of them. "You're about to find out."

"What do you…?"

Her words were silenced, as with another crack she and Harry vanished from sight.

0000000000

**The Ministry; Same Time:**

A whip and a crack later, and Rebecca found herself once more in the back room of the Centaur Liaison Office…and feeling ready to throw up.

"Urgh!" she groaned, falling to her knees, and clutching her stomach.

"Now you know why I prefer going by Floo," Harry said with a snort. "Even after all this time, I can never get used to it."

She couldn't blame him for that. She thought the Floo Network had been bad enough, but it was nothing compared to Apparating. She hadn't been able to see anything, and felt as though she were being pushed through a hosepipe, crushed so hard that she couldn't breathe, and her eyes and ears felt like they were being forced back into her head. It had been awful!

"And now, if you'll excuse me," he suddenly said. "I've got to go and do it eight more times!"

She heard the whip/crack sound again, but didn't look up to see if he had gone, as her head was still throbbing, and her stomach still churning.

"Next time…I'll take the bus," she moaned.

**To Be Continued…**


	9. Chapter 8

_**CHAPTER 8**_

_**Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!**_

0000000000

**Centaur Liaison Office;**

**Ten Minutes Later:**

Harry had returned to the Burrow, and back to the Ministry, a total of four times each, to collect Mrs. Weasley and Rebecca's three bodyguards. Each time, his face looked a little greener than it had before.

"Need a bucket?" Abraham joked, but no one laughed, not even he.

The four of them, including Molly, had managed to keep the Centaurs out of the Burrow with their wands, just long enough for Harry to return and get each of them out of there. The Centaurs had literally just broken down the front-door (and most of the wall with it), and raced in before Harry had Apparated the last of them out.

"Just…need…a minute," gasped Harry, taking deep breaths, as Molly worriedly patted his back. "I'll be okay, Molly," he told her, smiling.

At that moment, Ron suddenly walked in. At the sight of everyone, he half-raised his eyebrow, gazing at them all curiously. "Did I miss something?" he asked.

"Why don't you four go get something to drink, and rest for a while?" said Harry, ignoring Ron for the moment. "I need to go over a few things with Miss Leicester, as we need to establish a new safehouse for her and everything."

It was clear to all that it was not a suggestion, so they nodded their heads in agreement, and walked out the room.

"Ron, go after them, and make sure that all the guards have clear instructions not to let any of them out of their sight," he whispered quickly. "Also, tell them to check everything they eat and drink. That thing we were discussing earlier. Now, I'm certain of it!"

He spoke lowly, so as none of them could hear him. Rebecca was able to, since she was literally right next to him, but he didn't seem to mind her overhearing.

Ron's eyes widened a little, but he nodded at his friend, and walked out, following the group of one wizard and three witches outside.

"Oh, and send someone to check out the Burrow, and arrange transport for Firenze back here," Harry added. "Your mom will give you all the details."

Rebecca blinked at him for a few seconds. "What's…?"

He held up his hand, telling her to be quiet, while he went up to the door to the office, and closed it. "Sorry, but I don't want to risk anyone hearing us, particularly those three."

"Why not?"

He sighed, as he walked back up to her, and leaned against the desk. "There's been a development. Since you were last here in this office, me, Hermione and Ron have been doing some digging. Ever since you told us about those impostors, and the man who acted a bit like that other woman I told you about. Dolores Umbridge?"

"Yes, I remember, but…didn't you say she was dead?"

"That's what we were all led to believe, but… Well, like I told you before, it wouldn't be the first time that someone in Azkaban had faked their death to escape. And the similarities between her, that Doncaster impostor, and what you told us about that Vanessa woman, seemed too much to be a coincidence. So me and Ron headed out there to question the Warden at Azkaban about her and her final days."

"What happened?"

"We met the Warden, a man named Donald Pierce. He'd been in charge since the Dementors were all kicked out of Azkaban. We learned he had got the job, thanks to a recommendation from Umbridge herself, so we figured he might owe her. Plus, he would have been the only one who would have had full access to her during her incarceration."

"What did he say?"

Harry frowned. "Didn't get a chance to say anything much."

"Huh?"

He sighed. "We questioned him about Umbridge, and anything else he might be aware of, but he denied everything. That is, until we mentioned the coming war with the Centaurs. He seemed to really take that to heart."

"Why?"

"We mentioned that the war, so soon after Voldemort, would devastate Britain, and all of the magical community. So if he knew anything that could help us, we urged him to tell us."

"And did he?"

"No…though it was not for lack of trying." He looked down for a moment. "After we told him about the Centaurs, he said, and I quote, _By Merlin I didn't think she would_…" He paused.

"Didn't think she would what?"

"That's all he said. The moment he did, the poor man dropped down dead in front of us."

"Dead?" she said, staring at him in shock. "How?"

He shrugged. "We don't know for definite, but we had some healers take a look at him, to see if they could determine the cause of death. They couldn't find a single thing wrong with him physically. Aside from a little overweight, he was in more or less excellent shape." He sighed, a little sadly. "Guy had a family, too, from what I found out."

"Then what happened to him? A heart attack?"

"That would seem to be the most likely explanation, but no. I have my suspicions that what happened to him was something far more sinister."

"Like?"

He looked right at her. "The Unbreakable Vow."

"The what?"

"The Unbreakable Vow," he repeated. "It's an oath sworn by using magic. Basically, what happens is that two people, plus a third to initiate the magic, make a promise to one another. And whatever promise they make, they each have to stick by it, no matter what, till their dying day. Because if either of them ever attempt to break the vow…they won't live long enough to try."

Rebecca shuddered. "And…that's what happened to this Mr. Pierce?"

"It seems most likely. It would explain how he died so suddenly, and why he died right at the moment when he came close to mentioning what we can only assume must be Umbridge's name, and her involvement in everything concerning you, and quite possibly the Centaurs as well."

She frowned. "Still…as suspicious as it sounds, he could have died from some other way, couldn't he?"

Harry shrugged. "Possibly. But what with that, and what happened at the Burrow, I don't think so. And even if by some chance Umbridge wasn't involved in all this, we now know one of ours is definitely working with the Centaurs."

She gasped, and looked straight at him. "_What_?!"

Harry sighed. "Besides you and me, the only other people who knew you were at the Burrow were Ron, his parents, Ginny, Hermione, Firenze, Miss Griffin, Miss Pan, and Mr. Bollard. Oh, and Edwin, the guy whose head you saw in the fire."

She clenched her fist a little. "So you think this Umbridge woman is posing as one of them with that pumpkin juice potion of yours?"

"_Polyjuice_ Potion, and yes, as no one but they knew you were staying at the Burrow."

"Okay, but…which one?"

He frowned again. "Well, we know it can't be Firenze. The Polyjuice only works on humans, and even then doesn't turn anyone into another creature. And as you know, he was with you most of the time, and he has no means of contacting his herd. Hermione and Ron, I trust with my life, and we've been together too long for anyone to be able to masquerade as one of them and fool me. And the same with them and I."

She nodded, accepting his reasoning. "What about Ginny, her parents and that Edwin guy?" she then asked.

"Ron knows his own folks, and believe me, if anyone was gonna pose as them, they'd have to spend years watching them 24/7 to get their personalities right. They're the most complicated couple in the whole wizarding community. Ask anyone. But even so, I'll ask Ron to double-check, see if they remember a few things that only his real mom and dad would know, but I still don't think it's them we have to worry about."

"And Edwin?"

"Edwin's hardly left the Ministry, due to the workload the Centaurs have been making for us. We've got like a few dozen witnesses who can corroborate his whereabouts during the last week. And when he was at home, his family were with him. He never had a chance to go anywhere or contact anyone by himself."

"Okay, and Ginny?"

Harry smiled. "Besides Ron and Hermione, Ginny is the third most unlikely person anyone could masquerade as, and succeed."

"How do you know?"

His smile turned into a bit of a sly grin, as he simply replied, "_No one_ kisses like Ginny."

She blushed. "Okaaay, and that answers _that_ question. But what about the rest?"

He lost his smile then, and frowned. "That's what we have to figure out."

At that moment, Ron returned. "They're all helping themselves to some tea," he said, "including mom. And I've told the guards to keep an eye on all of them. They're not to let them out of their sight, even if one of them has to go to the loo, and to inform us if any of them try slipping something into their drink or anything. And Kingsley says he'll send someone for Firenze."

"Good," said Harry. He wasn't worried about Firenze being there at the Burrow with his herd. Firenze had told him that they wouldn't attack him again, as he had explained the situation. He wouldn't fight for them, by trying to abduct Rebecca, but he wouldn't fight against them either. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could offer.

"Make sure they are all kept under constant close observation," he added. "Until we can determine who each of them is, I don't wanna take any chances. I've told Rebecca here about what happened at Azkaban."

Ron nodded.

"Before anything else," Rebecca said slowly, "you might want to check Mr. Bollard first."

"Abraham?" said Ron, looking at her.

She nodded. "While he was at the Burrow with us, he acted a bit like the person who I thought was Doncaster. I mean, he was all flighty, and he seemed really in love with your cat."

"Cat? Oh, you mean Crookshanks, the large orange one?"

"Yes, him. Bollard went all lovey dovey when he saw him, even though the cat wouldn't have none of it when he went to pet him."

"Well, actually, from what Hermione and my dad tell me, Bollard was always a lover of animals. Why'd you think he ended up working in the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Department?"

"In what way, exactly, do you mean Crookshanks wouldn't have _none of it_?" Harry asked suddenly, ignoring him.

She shrugged. "The cat just didn't seem to like him, that's all. Took one sniff of him, and then ran off, hissing and spitting. I remember thinking it odd. I mean, he's supposed to work in a department that deals with dangerous animals, right? Yet he couldn't handle a cat?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"Do you think Umbridge could have taken Abs' place?" asked Ron.

"It would be ideal for her, but then again…Bollard's reputation with dealing with beasts isn't exactly high standard."

"I thought he was famous for dealing with them?" Rebecca asked curiously.

Ron laughed. "Bollard? The guy's all hot air. Okay, he's had a few minor successes over the years, but overall the guy couldn't catch a House-Elf, and you only need to order them to you."

"Still," added Harry, frowning still. "Crooks going off at Bollard is a sign that something's not right, at least not with him."

"Sorry, but what's the cat not liking someone got to do with this?!" said Rebecca.

"Crookshanks isn't what you would call your ordinary cat," said Harry. "You know how they say that some cats can sense evil? Well, in Crookshank's case, it's very true."

"Not always, mate," interrupted Ron. "Remember when he and I first met? He didn't exactly welcome me with open paws now, did he? And I'm no Death Eater."

"Maybe not, but still, it's very suspicious. Rebecca, you're gonna have to tell us everything that happened at the Burrow, from the moment Miss Griffin first arrived, to when I brought you back here."

Rebecca chewed her lower lip, but nodded, and started to talk. She explained everything, starting with right after Miss Pan and Mr. Bollard had arrived after Imogen, how she had suspected Bollard almost from the start, with his similar personality to that of the fake Doncaster, and his love of cats.

"That is worryingly like Umbridge," said Harry, his brow burrowing. "But like Ron here said, Bollard is known for his love of animals, and often acts a little eccentric around them. And as for Crookshanks, again he could just simply not like the guy, or possibly there is something about Bollard that Crooks doesn't fancy."

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"Crooks doesn't go for people who are untrustworthy," explained Ron.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean you're not trustworthy then?" she asked, remembering him saying that the cat hadn't liked him at first.

Ron blushed, while Harry laughed.

"It was a long time ago," said Harry. "And he's matured a lot since then. But go on with your story. From the sounds of it, Bollard could be a good suspect, but we don't know for certain. I'm sure there are plenty of things in his life that he's not completely honest about."

She blinked, as she suddenly remembered. "When the Centaurs were attacking, he had a means of contacting the Ministry, but didn't tell us about it."

Ron looked over at her, and then at Harry. "Why would he do that unless he didn't want us to come over and help?"

Rebecca winced. "Well, when your mother got hold of his mirror, what he apparently uses to call the Ministry with, a young woman answered on the other end. From the way she spoke, when she thought it was Mr. Bollard calling, it sounds like they were…_close_ friends."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And Bollard's a married man, too."

Ron sighed. "That would explain the untrustworthiness, and why Crooks didn't like him. He doesn't go for any kind of person who's untrustworthy, and let's face it, a guy cheating on his wife is way up there on the list."

"It could still all be a farce, though. Umbridge might have picked him for that very reason, as it would provide the perfect cover when dealing with Crooks."

Ron squinted his eyes a little, thinking. "Maybe, mate, but I don't think Umbridge knows anything about Crooks, and if she did then why go to all the trouble of choosing to pose as a guy whose personality, let's face it, sounds like it could be the male version of her?"

Harry gave a low sigh, but couldn't help agreeing with him. Umbridge hadn't been the brightest of witches, but even she would be smart enough not to go masquerading as someone who everyone would suspect was she.

"But even so," Ron then added, "we don't know for definite that he isn't her, or that he's not the one working for the Centaurs either. Like you, and what Rebecca here has said, his actions are questionable at the very least."

Harry nodded. "We'll know soon enough anyway." He then looked back to her. "Tell us the rest of your story, Rebecca."

She frowned, trying to recall what happened next. "Well, while everyone was having their tea, Miss Pan, or Meredith, got up to go check the garden."

Ron and Harry's interest perked up again at that.

"She could have been going outside to summon the Centaurs?" Ron suggested.

Rebecca frowned. "I don't think she had the chance."

"What do you mean?"

She smirked a little. "When she got to the back-door and opened it, she bumped right into Firenze, who was standing there, having his breakfast. He had his back to her, so she ended up walking straight into his backside when she opened the door."

Ron burst out laughing. "Bet that made her shriek."

She couldn't help giggling also. "Shriek? She was practically screaming. I thought your parents had a siren in the house when I heard her."

Harry, however, was not laughing. He had on his face a cool, calculating look.

"Harry?" said Ron, looking concerned.

"Meredith Pan isn't exactly the bravest of souls, but she's been around loads of dangerous animals before. Doesn't it strike you odd that she would act so high-strung around Firenze?"

Ron shrugged. "To be honest, not really, mate. I mean, since all the trouble with the Centaurs began, a lot of people have gotten nervous about them."

"But we told her and the others that Firenze was there?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't there to meet them when they arrived. She could have just plain forgot."

"Possibly, but don't forget Umbridge's fear and hatred of Centaurs. The way Meredith acted; she could have very well been her."

"Umbridge has a thing against Centaurs?" Rebecca asked, looking curious.

The two of them looked back to her, and nodded.

"Umbridge had, shall we say, an unfortunate _skirmish_ with them, a few years ago. She made the mistake of angering them in their own forest, and they dragged her off with them. I don't know the full details of what happened, but Dumbledore, an old friend, managed to convince the Centaurs to return her unharmed. But whatever happened to her in there, she never got over her fear of them."

Rebecca couldn't help but feel some kinship with this Umbridge woman at that. After all, she knew better than anyone how terrifying the Centaurs could be.

"Wait," she said, realising something. "If this woman was so frightened of Centaurs, what makes you think she'd work with them?"

"Well," said Harry, shrugging, "if she is, then she hasn't exactly been dealing with them close at hand. When she appeared to them, in that guy's form, she made sure to keep her distance. And we don't know how she's been keeping contact with them since then."

"But even so, to work with them, and risk starting a war…?"

"You don't know Umbridge," said Ron darkly. "The woman had no conscience concerning the harm of others. She always put herself first before anything. And as for starting a war…frankly, it wouldn't surprise me."

She cocked her head curiously at him.

"Out of all the people we sent down after the war, I imagine she was one of them who found her sentence the worst to deal with. Among other things, she was your basic spoilt brat, used to living on the best of everything. So I would think going from riches to prisoner rags would be a major comedown to her."

"And starting a war would be just up her alley," said Harry bitterly. "If she is doing this, then no doubt she's doing it simply for revenge. She would blame everybody for her fall from grace, not just us, and doing this would be the best and easiest way to get payback on everyone."

"But how would she even know about me?" she wondered aloud.

Harry shrugged. "She did work in the Ministry, so she may have heard about the helicopter that crashed you into the Forbidden Forest. And I did mention that she had a run-in with the Centaurs once, too. It's possible she may have heard something about you from them when she was their prisoner, and used it to her advantage years later."

She half-screwed her face in thought.

"Hey, I didn't say it was pretty, but then again, nothing with Umbridge ever was."

"Meredith Pan's reaction with Firenze definitely sounds like Umbridge, though," said Ron.

"Yeah, but again it's nothing definite. Like you said, Meredith's overreaction, considering the trouble a lot of people are having with Centaurs lately, was probably nothing more than a minor panic attack."

Ron fumed. "So we're back to where we started then."

"What about Imogen Griffin?" Rebecca suddenly asked.

They both looked at her, and then at each other.

"Imogen did ask for a lot of sugar in her tea when I was there. And I've never known her to take any before."

"I don't suppose she offered an explanation?"

"She said she didn't take sugar because of her parents. Said they didn't want her rotting her teeth."

"Curious, but not unusual. I always got told by my folks to stop eating so much candy."

Harry groaned. "Annnnd we're back." He looked back to her. "Did anything else happen?"

"After Meredith got scared by Firenze, he and I went for a walk together. Not soon after, he heard the other Centaurs approaching, and rushed me back inside while he went to go talk to them. Molly tried to send me back here, using that Floo thing, but when we got to the fireplace, there was none of that powder."

Ron's eyes widened a little, and Harry swore lowly.

"Mrs. Weasley says she kept it in a flowerpot, but it was empty by the time we got there, and she said it had been full the last time it was used."

Ron looked at her. "Did you see anyone near the flowerpot at all while you were in the room?"

She shook her head sadly.

"Was there any time when one of you could have been alone in the room, to remove the powder?" Harry asked.

She frowned, and thought. "Hmmm, I don't think so…Oh wait! When Meredith got scared by Firenze, we all rushed out to see what the problem was."

Harry looked on in interest. "Before then, was there any other time when the Floo Powder could have gotten stolen?"

Rebecca thought carefully. "Not that I can think of," she said finally. "Of course, I don't know what they all got up to while I was out of the house with Firenze."

Harry turned to Ron. "When you talk to your mom, find out if she ever left either of them alone in the living room, and if any of them were ever anywhere close to the pot or fireplace? If the time when Meredith was screaming at Firenze was the only time when the Powder could have got nicked, then at least we can rule out her."

She grimaced suddenly. "There's another thing about Imogen also."

"What?"

"When the Centaurs were surrounding the house, Imogen used some kind of exploding spell, which blasted a few of the Centaurs. I don't think anyone was killed, but some were definitely hurt."

Harry swore inwardly. "That complicates things even further. By attacking a Centaur full on, Imogen inadvertently declared war between the Ministry and them."

"Could that have been her intention all along?"

Harry shrugged (they seemed to be doing a lot of shrugging and nodding lately, she realised). "It is another possibility, but again nothing concrete. Imogen isn't a field girl. Before today, she'd never been put in the line of battle, so who's to say how anyone would have reacted if they were in her shoes?"

"Either way," said Ron, "we should find out for sure whether Umbridge is one of those guys."

"What do you mean?" she said, looking at him.

"Polyjuice Potion only lasts about an hour, unless you keep drinking it," he explained. "That's why we're having the guards keep track of all of them. If one of them tries slipping something into their tea, we'll know."

She nodded, but then wondered. "Is there any other way that a person can change their appearance?"

"Not that I know of. I'll have to double check, but someone would have told us before now if there was."

"How much longer do we have to wait until then?"

Harry checked his watch. "Just another half an hour. And even if none of them change, Hermione's arranged some tests to be carried out, which can determine whether someone is under the influence of Polyjuice Potion."

"I thought that stuff was supposed to be foolproof?" she said. "That no one could tell the difference?"

"Usually it is, but a lot of Voldemort's former supporters went underground with it, hiding from the Ministry. So Hermione cooked up a small potion, which can basically detect certain ingredients used only in Polyjuice."

She smiled. "Smart girl that."

Ron grinned. "You don't know the half of it."

0000000000

**Half Hour Later: **

The minutes ticked slowly by, during which Ron had gone to talk to some of the Ministry's heads, asking about what Rebecca had enquired about, if there were other ways for a person to alter their appearance. He had asked all the top witches and wizards, but all said the only other known way of changing ones self was by having their bodies altered without the use of potion (in other words; cosmetic surgery, but with magic wands instead of scalpers). However, that form of camouflage was far less effective than Polyjuice, and much easier to detect.

While they waited, Harry received news from some of Kingsley's men, who had gone to the Burrow. They reported that all the Centaurs, save Firenze who had been there to welcome them, had gone by the time they had arrived. They had left right after they realised Rebecca had escaped them yet again. But during their time there, Firenze had managed to speak a little with the one called Ronan, and was able to get some information from him.

It turned out Harry and his friends had been correct in their assumption that the Centaurs were getting help from someone. Ronan had told Firenze that Magorian had received word from someone's Patronus, telling him that Rebecca was being kept at a place called the Burrow, the home of Harry Potter's closest friend, the young man with the red hair. The Patronus had also told them where to find it.

Firenze had wanted to return to Rebecca's side instantly, but Harry said to wait there for the moment. They would need to arrange a new safehouse for her, so he told him that he might as well wait until it was all sorted, and then he would be transported there with her.

Time passed, and finally the hour was up. Harry checked his watch for the umpteenth time, and finally he stood up. "It's time," he simply said, and walked out the office door.

"May I go with you?" Rebecca asked. At Harry's startled look, and what appeared to be the start of a shake of his head, she added, "If this Umbridge woman really is in there with them, then I want to know straight from her mouth why she's been doing all this to me. Plus…sitting here by myself will drive me crazy! And the last time I went off alone with someone, I was nearly kidnapped."

Harry frowned, and twiddled his wand for a minute or two, before finally sighing, and nodded. "All right, but stay close to me, and say nothing."

She nodded, and followed him out.

They walked out of the Centaur Liaison Office, and onto the elevator that took them down from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Within moments, the elevator came to a stop at one of the floors, and the disembodied woman's voice sounded out, "_Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, incorporating Department of Intoxicating Substances, Improper Use of Magic, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protection Objects, and Wizengamot Administration Services."_

Rebecca couldn't help noticing that they were on the floor where their law enforcement office was. It seemed Harry was expecting to make an arrest.

After walking further along a few corridors, and through several doors, they came to a room where the trio of her former bodyguards were waiting. However, not one of them looked any different from the way she had first seen them.

Covering up her surprise, she turned to look at Harry, and saw his face the same as hers. He was doing a good job of covering it, but after years at her father's politician parties and such, she was a pretty good judge of character. He seemed just as surprised as she was.

Together with the three suspects, Ron and two guards in blue robes were also in the room. Harry called him over, and whispered something to him.

"We never took our eyes off them, Harry," said Ron quietly. "We checked and double checked everything they had on them, and everything they ate and drank. There's no trace of Polyjuice on them."

"They could have always taken a stronger dose," he replied. "Do you have the potion from Hermione?"

"Yup. I was just waiting for you." He reached into his pocket, and fished out a small purple bottle. "Hermione says one sip is all it'll take. If anyone has even the tiniest drop of Polyjuice in them, this stuff will know it."

"Brilliant. How does it work?"

"They have only to drink it. Once they do, and if they do have some Polyjuice in them, their bodies will turn bright purple. If not, then nothing will happen."

Harry nodded, and then turned to address the three seated individuals.

"Mr. Potter, just what in the name of Merlin is going on?!" Miss Pan demanded in her shrill voice.

"Yeah!" Abraham Bollard also demanded, his voice high and outraged. "We risk our lives protecting your charge there, and you keep us in here as though we were criminals. What gives?!"

Imogen said nothing, and just sat where she was, quiet as a mouse, staring at the scene calmly.

Harry looked at them all sternly. "I apologise for the way you've been brought here, but I assure you it is necessary." He paused for a moment, staring hard at them all. "The reason you're here now is because of the attack at the Burrow. As you know, we sent Miss Leicester there for her own protection. We took every precaution, and only a very few select people knew of her being there. Yet, despite all that, the Centaurs came and attacked the very next day. There's no way they could have known she was there…without help."

Imogen remained indifferent, yet Rebecca thought she could see a wave of sweat appear on her brow. Mr. Bollard seemed to have lost his voice, as he stared nervously at Harry, and began to give a small, sheepish laugh. "Y-y-you can't be serious?" he stuttered.

"You don't seriously think we had anything to do with it?!" Meredith Pan snapped. "Why, we were all there ourselves. We could have been killed protecting Miss Leicester against those fearsome beasts!"

Rebecca frowned a little. She knew Centaurs preferred being called beasts instead of men, but the way Meredith had said it just now, she couldn't help looking upon it as a grave insult to her friend Firenze's race.

"I realise that, Miss Pan," said Harry. "But the fact remains, only you three are left out of all the people who knew of Miss Leicester's hiding place. We've checked everyone else, and you three are the only ones unaccounted for."

"You think we're working for the Centaurs?" Meredith asked in an astounded voice. "But that's utterly preposterous! Besides the fact that we'd be risking starting a war that would threaten all of us, Centaurs also don't care much for our kind. They're a warrior people. Sneaking around and accepting gifts from strangers isn't their style."

Rebecca had to admit that she was right about that. Centaurs were a more upfront kind of race. They fought their enemies straight on, and settled to whatever task they had with their own brains and initiative.

"That's true, but even Centaurs would probably accept help from anyone who told them where to find a person they'd been searching years for," added Ron. "Besides, they'd still need to track her down, and capture her."

Meredith glared at him. "Even so, to suggest that either of us would…"

"We're not merely _suggesting_ it," Harry interrupted, "but we are investigating it. But first, before all else, we have to learn if you three are who you say you are."

"Eh?" said Abraham, looking up in confusion, Meredith as well. Imogen also looked a little pink around the cheeks now.

Harry held out the purple bottle. "I want each of you to take a sip from this."

"Why?" Abraham asked, looking at it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Something that can determine once and for all who you are, or at least who you appear to be. It's perfectly safe, and has been tested. And I should warn you that should you refuse to take this, it will be noted down to use against you later in court."

"Court?!"

"Drink!" Harry added, a little more forcefully, and handed the bottle over to Mr. Bollard. The man gulped, but unscrewed the cork off the bottle, and lifted it up to his lips.

Rebecca leaned her head slightly forward, watching anxiously, as she expected Abraham Bollard's entire face to go purple at any second.

He held the bottle before him for a second, before finally lifting it up, as though for a toast. "Bottoms up," he said, and took a swig from it.

She held her breath, and then…nothing.

He lowered the bottle back down, and tilted his head slightly to the right. "Not as good as Butterbeer, but definitely a whole lot better than Fire Whiskey."

If anyone had had a feather on them at that moment, they could have easily knocked Rebecca down with it. She had been so certain that it would be him! Looking over at Harry and Ron, she didn't see the same expression of shock on their faces, but could tell they were a little surprised, considering all that Rebecca had told them.

Bollard passed the bottle to Imogen, who took it without question. Just as it had been with her male colleague, so was it with her…no effect. Her skin remained as clear as ever.

'Two down, one to go,' Rebecca thought, and looked over at Miss Pan. She had on her face a nervous expression, like she were afraid that something was about to be exposed any second now. 'Which it could be?' she thought.

Imogen handed the bottle over to Meredith. She stared at it for a few seconds longer than any of the others, and then finally took a careful sip out of it.

She watched and waited, as did Harry and Ron. They watched and waited for a good half-minute, and…nothing. Meredith remained as colourless as she had always been.

She didn't know who was the more shocked and disappointed, her or Harry.

"Well, what else?" Meredith asked snidely. "Should we hand you our wands, make a statement, or perhaps give a detailed account of our history over the past several years?!"

"That's enough, Miss Pan," said Ron warningly.

"The three of you can go now," Harry simply replied, earning a strange look from Ron and Rebecca.

"About time, too!" Meredith snapped, getting up.

"Keep in mind, though, that nothing has changed. We know that someone has been leaking information to the Centaurs, and you three are still the most likely suspects. Until we can prove otherwise, all three of you will remain under constant observation."

"Of course, of course," said Abraham, laughing slightly, seemingly getting his humour back. Meredith remained high strung and angered, and left with her nose held high. Imogen said nothing, but bowed her head politely.

"Please let me know if there is any way I can help," she said, and left with the others.

When the door closed behind them, Ron looked at his friend incredously. "Harry, why the devil did you let them go?"

"What else could I do?" he replied, letting some of the frustration fill his voice. "I thought for sure Umbridge was one of them, but now it seems she has an accomplice."

"Could she have found a way to hide the Polyjuice in her?" she asked.

Ron and Harry both shook their heads. "No way," said Harry. "That potion's full-proof. Anyone who's had Polyjuice doesn't have a chance in concealing it. Hermione made sure of that, and trust me, when she's certain of something, she's _certain_."

'And there's no other way to change one's appearance,' she thought. 'At least none that can't be detected.'

"So we're back to square one," fumed Ron. "Maybe Umbridge isn't involved in this at all? Maybe we're just clutching at straws?"

"No, I don't believe so," said Harry. "I've tried to look at this from all sides, and while there is the smallest chance that Umbridge may indeed not be involved, I don't believe it. Her so-called death at Azkaban, the trouble with the Centaurs occurring not long after, witch-nobodies suddenly trying to kidnap Rebecca, and the Warden's death just as he was about to mention Umbridge...it's all connected. It has to be!"

"But, Harry, if she was then that means she would have to be posing as one of the guys directly connected to Rebecca, like those three. But she isn't."

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I know. But maybe she's someone else, like that witch that tried to take Rebecca before. For all we know, she could be posing as the security guard."

Rebecca stared at him, a little in disbelief. "Okay, now you're starting to sound paranoid."

He shrugged. "Even so, I want Hermione to make plenty of that potion of hers, Ron. Test everyone you can."

Ron gave him a bewildered look. "And what am I supposed to tell them?!"

Harry shrugged again. "Tell the truth, or say we've been commissioned by a new drinks company to test their latest beverage. Use your imagination."

Ron looked like he was ready to faint.

"In the mean time," Harry then added, and looked back to her. "We'd better find somewhere new for you to stay. The Burrow has been compromised, and thus is no longer safe."

She smiled sadly at him. "Is there any place that actually is anymore?"

Neither of them seemed able to answer her.

**To Be Continued…**


	10. Chapter 9

**_CHAPTER 9_**

**_Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!_**

0000000000

**Unknown Location;**

**3 Weeks Later: **

In the weeks that followed, Rebecca was moved to three different safe-houses, all in carefully chosen locations. Harry had told her it was safer this way, as they didn't want to risk the Centaurs finding her, especially since they now knew they must have help from somewhere in the Ministry.

Abraham Bollard, Meredith Pan and Imogen Griffin were still under close observation by the Aurors, but so far they had done nothing to suggest that they were the ones working with Magorian and his herd. They were, however, still the likeliest suspects, as they had been the only ones, other than Harry and his closest friends, who knew about Rebecca hiding out at the Burrow. But without proof, all Harry and his lot could do was keep a vigilant eye on them.

Firenze had, of course, rejoined her at the first safe-house, and had stayed with her ever since. To Rebecca, this was both a blessing and a curse. For although she did welcome his presence, as it was a great comfort to her, it was also a constant bane. She had been trying to tell him something for all these weeks, and yet was no closer (not that she had had much time with him, in all fairness).

Since it had been revealed that someone was working with the Centaurs, Firenze had made it his life's duty to be her sole protector. He was almost constantly on guard, watching out the windows, patrolling the grounds of wherever they were, and had even tried reading the stars to see if they could tell him anything new. Alas, the stars were as silent as…_stars_. They revealed only what the herd had said in the beginning; two possible futures, one where Rebecca was free to live her own life in the human world, while in the other she remained with the Centaurs to serve them as their Breeder.

The few and rare moments they had together, Firenze would often put his hand over hers, to give comfort. She had welcomed it once, but now it made her uncomfortable. She knew Firenze had feelings for her, as his kiss had declared that, but so far he had not made any other attempts to do so again. In a way, she was glad the Centaurs had attacked, for it was because of that that Firenze rarely had time with her now.

Harry Potter sent a number of Aurors, at least those who were free anyway, and a various witches and wizards to help safeguard her. Harry ensured her that they were people who he only trusted inexplicably, and who he had tested with Hermione's Polyjuice-testing Potion first.

As for her friends and family, they were all under the delusion that she was travelling somewhere around Scotland, made believable thanks to the oblivating memory spells. Rebecca had to admit they made life easier, but she still found it disconcerting that someone could trifle with a person's personal memories so.

Rebecca wrote her next letter to her parents, frowning as she thought about what to write. So far she had sent them three letters, but in all honesty she wouldn't have really sent them any at all. She didn't want them to worry, but in all her letters, all she had written were lies. After all, she couldn't very well tell them the truth about where she was, and what was happening. So she had been fabricating some stories, telling them about the odd land sight she had been to, which she had read about in a guidebook, and the occasional new person she met, based on Harry or one of the others, but even then she had to rewrite their characters a lot.

'If nothing else, I might have a career as a writer someday,' she thought bemusedly. 'All this fabricating is giving me great exercise for my imagination.'

At that moment, a knock on the door sounded, jolting her from her musings.

"Yes?" she called.

The door opened, and in walked one of the Aurors, a middle-aged man called Nicolas Grimm. He was a man who definitely lived up to his name, as he was without a doubt one of the grimmest men she had ever met (and she had been to Parliament once).

He was a tall man, bald, pale skin, but well built. He was one of the regular Aurors that came to keep guard over her. Harry assured her that he was one of their best, and could be well trusted. He rarely smiled, though, and had a sour expression that seemed permanently attached to his face.

Rebecca wondered if he was related to Meredith in any way.

"Mr. Potter is outside in the garden," he said. "He wants to talk to you."

"Thank you," she replied, and got up to follow him downstairs. The house they were currently in was a middle-class house with three small bedrooms, but with a very large back garden. They had chosen this house for that specific reason, as it would be more comfortable for Firenze, who preferred to sleep outside.

When they first moved in, she just assumed the house was one of many safe-houses that the Ministry of Magic owned, but as it turned out it actually belonged to a couple of muggles who apparently were away on holiday. The Aurors, including Harry, had learned the house was unoccupied, so they decided to use it temporary until a more permanent home could be found. They had promised her that the house would be returned to its original condition the moment they left it, thanks to their magic, so the muggles would never know they were there, but that didn't do much to ease Rebecca's conscience. She felt so guilty moving about another person's house, sleeping in their beds…etc.

She briefly wondered what it could be like if someone did the same to her house in Italy, and she shuddered.

She made her way out, into the garden, and found Harry standing on the patio with Ron and Firenze. Aside from them, and Hermione, she hadn't had many regular visitors, and the Aurors who did come rarely talked, preferring to concentrate on their work.

"Hello, Harry, Ron," she greeted them both politely, and gave Firenze a nod. He smiled warmly back at her.

"Rebecca," said Harry firmly. "We need to talk."

"Oh no," she said, feeling scared, as she recognised that tone of his all too well by now. "What's happened now?"

"Nothing bad," said Ron hurriedly. "Well, maybe not anyway. But it does mean you're going to have to be extra careful from now on."

"Huh?"

"There's been a sighting," explained Harry. "We have reason to believe that Umbridge has finally surfaced, which means she's _definitely_ involved in al this."

She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. There hadn't been any news of the renegade witch since Harry and his friends had learned of her possible escape from that prison Azkaban in weeks. They hadn't even known for certain whether she was involved or not.

"How can you be sure it's her?" she asked.

"We've questioned witnesses, and from the description they gave, it definitely sounds like her." Harry gave a sheepish smile. "Umbridge had a…_fairly_ well known description."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, like a toad. Fat and squat she was, with a mouth as big as one. Every time you looked at her, you'd almost expect her to start shooting her tongue out at the nearest fly."

"Where was she seen?"

"Around the city centre, near Trafalgar Square."

She frowned. "Why would she suddenly start showing herself after so long, and in such a popular place, too? She must have known someone would spot her there."

"We know," said Harry, frowning also. "That's what's got us worried." He went to sit down on one of the garden furniture chairs. "It's possible this may all be a trap."

"A trap?!"

He nodded. "Maybe all our extra precautions have done just what we hoped, by keeping you nice and hidden completely, so that not even Umbridge can get to you. Because of this, she's been left with little choice but to try a new strategy."

"In other words, _bait_," added Ron. "She knows we'll come after her the moment she sticks her fat neck out, and she's probably hoping that when we do, she'll be able to catch us and find out where you're hiding."

"And the problem is, that's just what we have to do," said Harry.

She stared at him aghast. "You can't be serious?!"

He looked at her with a tired look. "We can't afford to pass up this opportunity, Rebecca. We need something, _anything_, to make up for these long weeks!"

She noticed for the first time how tired and worn he really looked at that moment. He looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks, his hair shaggy, his eyes half-closed with bags under them, and even his clothes looked as though they hadn't been washed or pressed in a while. Ron didn't look all that much better either.

"Another hard night on the town?" she guessed.

After that young witch Imogen had cast that exploding spell on the Centaurs, back at the Burrow, everything had happened just as Harry had foretold. The Centaurs had indeed taken that spell on their kind as an act of war. They had almost started attacking humans immediately, even mere muggles, out on the streets in retaliation.

When the Minister for the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had learned what had happened, he had called Harry, and Apparated them both straight to the Centaur leader without delay. He had practically begged and pleaded with Magorian to refrain from striking out at them, as Imogen was a young and inexperienced witch, and couldn't be held completely at fault. Kingsley and Harry had both claimed full responsibility for her actions, since Kingsley was the Minister, and Harry was the one who had sent her in the first place.

It had taken every form of persuasive argument and diplomacy they could think of, and in the end, it was only because of their past together at the battle of Hogwarts, and the Centaur's own personal past with Harry, that they were able to halt a full out declaration of war against the Ministry. Despite everything, they still respected The-Boy-Who-Lived, but even that was not enough to stall them forever. They said they could forgive the young witch for her youth, but that was all. Nothing else had changed.

The Centaurs knew they were hiding Rebecca, and were still intent that one day she would be theirs. They knew the Ministry would not divulge her location to them, but that mattered not, as in their minds they would find her eventually. But if any of the sorcerers ever dare raise their wands against them again, there would be no more negotiations, no more talk…and no more mercy.

They couldn't have made it any plainer that the time to talk was long since over.

So far, the Ministry had been lucky. Aside from oblivating any muggles who had seen the Centaurs, none of the Aurors had run into any of them, so the threat was contained momentarily. But Centaur sightings had become so common now that the Aurors were on daily reconnaissance. Any time they spent away from their patrols around the city, and now Devon where the Burrow was, they ran the risk of a muggle spotting a Centaur and leaving with their memories intact. There had already been at least seven muggles who had escaped oblivation, but fortunately they had not divulged any word to the public.

"Another three Centaur sightings," moaned Ron. "One muggle had one of those gun things that shoot moving pictures."

"Video camera, Ron," said Harry, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, that. We were lucky to get him and wipe the camera."

She looked at them both in pity. "You really need to get some sleep, you two."

Ron snorted. "Be nice to get a chance."

"But you understand now why we have to give this a chance," explained Harry. "If we catch Umbridge, then maybe we…"

"Maybe what, Harry?" she said softly. "Even if you do get her, what good will that do? The Centaurs have made clear that they want me, nothing else. Getting Umbridge won't change that."

"I know, but perhaps with her we might be able to start negotiations again. If we reveal to them that Umbridge was just using them, getting them to start a war that would cost us both, then maybe they might consider stopping this whole thing out of pride, because of her using them."

"That…wouldn't be consistent with what I remember about them, Harry," she noted shortly. "Although Centaurs are a proud race, to be sure; once they set their minds to something, they never give up, even if it was at another's bidding."

Harry gave a hopeless shrug. "It's all we've got to work with, Rebecca."

She sighed. "Then I guess all I can do is wish you luck then. I assume you're going to start looking for her around Trafalgar?"

"Best place to start."

"Good luck then. Just promise me one thing, will you?"

"What?"

"Be careful!"

The two of them had grinned, saying, "We always are", making her smile, and then left.

After they had gone, Rebecca sat outside for a while, idly watching the various flowers swaying to and fro in the wind. She should have brought her sketchpad down with her, to do some drawing. Although she didn't really draw flowers much, unless they were part of her actual picture, she had to admit that the garden was a glorious sight.

As she looked up, her smile turned down a little when she noticed Firenze trotting towards her. He had no smile either, but then he rarely did when he was on watch duty, as he always took his duties seriously.

She reached down and plucked a small daisy from the ground, smelling its fresh scent, looking for any excuse to look away from the approaching Centaur. She just needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

'Now's the time,' she thought, angry with herself for letting this whole thing go on for so long. 'I must talk with him today, and get this whole thing straightened out once and for all. A day is fine, a week understandable, but over three weeks?! That's bloody ridiculous.'

She forced a smile on her face, as he came over. "Good morning, Firenze. How are you?"

He offered her a small smile in return. "Good morning, my Rebecca. I trust this new day is welcome to you."

"Yes, it's beautiful." It was a bright sunny day, which lit up all the colours of the garden's flowers, and even made the slightly overgrown lawn look like one large emerald jewel, shining brightly. "May we talk?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied quickly, making her lose her smile just as fast. "I need to speak with Nicolas Grimm about tonight's guard duty. I shall speak with you later if I can."

And with that he trotted off, before she could even speak, leaving her in his wake, and her fuming.

'Why is it,' she growled mentally, 'whenever I didn't want to see him, he was always close by, and now when I do, he's always busy?!'

0000000000

**3 Days Later; Ministry of Magic:**

After three days of investigation, research, checking out every lead, interviewing witnesses, and walking all the streets near Trafalgar Square, Harry felt ready to scream.

It seemed that right after they had got their one break, with the possible sighting of Dolores Umbridge, the trail had immediately gone cold. No sign of her had been spotted in all the time since, and now Harry was back where he started, which was definitely no good news for the Ministry or the rest of the wizarding community.

The Centaurs were getting even angrier, if that was possible, and were letting the whole of Britain know it. One of them had kicked down a lamppost the other day, after following who he had first thought to be Rebecca, but who turned out to merely bear a close resemblance to her. Some of the muggles nearby had tried to calm him down by throwing a rope around him, while they had been under the perception filter spell, thinking he was nothing but a mere horse, only to get a shock when they approached him, and the spell broke.

One of the most important rules in dealing with Centaurs, is never, _ever_, under any circumstances, treat any of them like a horse!

The Centaur had gone berserk, kicking out with his legs, and hitting two muggles with his rock-hard hooves. One of them was in hospital with cracked ribs and a concussion, while the other one had been more fortunate, narrowly missing the Centaur's hooves, sustaining only a bump on the head and a bruised bum from falling over.

Although Harry felt for the poor men, he was glad for their injuries. Not only were they not life threatening, but the knocks on their heads made it possible to pass off the story that they had suffered some kind of delirium, so there had been no need to modify their memories. The rest of the muggles, who had ran off when the Centaur had first started going into a frenzy, had not seen his true colours, so there was no need to go after them either.

They were lucky…_again_. But every day the situation was getting worse, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time. This war, like the one with Voldemort, was now inevitable, unless a miracle happened.

'I wonder if there's a spell that can create clones of a person?' he thought. 'Maybe then we could give them one of Rebecca without them realising it.'

"Harry!" Ron's voice yelled through the door of his office before his friend even got through it. His face looked flushed with red, panting as though he had run all the way there from Hogwarts.

"Ron? What's…?"

"We got a lead!" was all he said, and that was all that Harry needed to hear.

He instantly stood up, his wand ready in his hand. "Talk to me."

"There's been another sighting of Umbridge. She's still in the muggle region of London, an old vacant shop somewhere near Trafalgar."

Harry nodded, and came round his desk. "Then let's go check it out."

Ron looked at his friend, a little concerned. "Wait a minute, Harry. Don't you think…"

"Ron, this is the first breakthrough we've had in days. If we leave it too long, she may get away again."

"I'm not denying that, pal, but listen. Remember what we discussed, about how odd it was that Umbridge had started showing herself in public?"

Harry sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, I know. Bait for a possible trap, I get it. But really, what else can we do?"

"We play it smart is what we do," replied Ron, and he honestly couldn't believe he was the one playing the smart one here, and without Hermione no less. "I've already asked for all the available Aurors we can get to accompany us. If Umbridge is planning a surprise attack on us, we'll give her a run for her money."

Harry smiled, but then frowned. "Alright, but _I_ take the lead, okay?"

Ron looked at him sadly, and couldn't help but notice the way he kept scratching at the white-lettered scar on his right hand, the one that Umbridge herself had given him, and had never gone away.

"Mate, perhaps it would be best if…"

"I go in first or none at all!" said Harry adamantly.

Ron sighed. "Mate, I understand this might be a bit hard for you an all, but…"

"Hard for me?" Harry looked at him, confused for a moment, but then widened his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not doing this for revenge, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then why?"

"In case you've forgotten, we're on the brink of another war, Ron. One that Umbridge has caused this time. Unless we find a way to stop it, and offer the Centaurs some form of compensation…"

"Compensation?!" Ron looked at him in alarm. "You're not thinking of giving them Umbridge instead of Rebecca, are you?" Yes, Umbridge was a monster in his book, but the thought of willingly handing anyone over to the Centaurs, knowing what their fate might be, sounded like something the Death Eaters would have no conscience with doing.

Harry sighed. "Of course not. Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, I just wanna show them how she has duped them, and then maybe they might not go ahead with this war. You remember how proud they all are. If they find out they were tricked into starting this war, they might be angry enough at Umbridge to forget about going after Rebecca."

"I know, Harry. I was there when you told Rebecca your plan, and frankly I agree with what she said. I've only known Firenze, but from what I do know about Centaurs, they're not the kind of people who'd take any kind of _compensation_. They want something, they get it. And Rebecca spent _how_ long with them, so she'd know better than any of us."

Harry frowned. "We need to do something, Ron," he said, breathing heavily. "Don't forget how bad it's getting out there."

"I'm not forgetting! Don't you forget who pulled 16 hours straight yesterday, mate."

He gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Ron looked hard at him. "Come on, pal, what's the story?"

"There is none. I told you why. War's on the horizon, and we need a possible means to an end for it. Umbridge is maybe our best bet."

"No, it's not just that. I've seen the way you look every time you mention that toad-woman's name. Not much different from the way we all look, I grant you, but on you…it's somewhat alien." He stared right into his eyes. "Is this about what she did to you? The, err…" He gave a short look to Harry's right hand, which he instinctly clenched.

"No!" said Harry, a little forcefully. "I came to terms with that ages ago. Besides, with all the other scars I've gotten since then, I tend not to think about it all that much."

"Then what?"

He watched as Harry chewed on his lower lip, until finally he sighed and looked back at him.

"We were the ones who put her away, Ron. We had her arrested, we spoke at her trial, and got her sent down for life at Azkaban. That was…that _should_ have been the end of it. And now here we are, nearly a year later, with her having been out for months, us not knowing about it, and a war about to start directly because of her."

"We're not to blame for any of this, Harry," said Ron in disbelief. "Like you said, we got her arrested, but it was the Ministry who sentenced her and everything. They were the ones responsible for her imprisonment. It's not our fault she managed to elude them."

"We still should have done something!" Harry snapped. "We should have checked to make sure there was no way out for her. We should have checked who was working at Azkaban. We should have…we should have…just done _something_." He ended the last part of his sentence a little pathetically, which he seemed to realise, and looked down at his feet.

Ron walked over, grasping his shoulder in a brotherly manner. "We are _not_ to blame for any of this, Harry," he repeated. "Umbridge wasn't the only one we sent down, remember? It's not like we can keep eyes on all the criminals now, can we?"

Harry said nothing for a while, and just continued looking down at his feet, fuming slightly. "I still should have done something."

"We _are_ doing something now. Just take care not to do too much," he added wisely. "It's alright to accept a little help every now and then. Look how well it worked out when we were hunting the Horcruxes."

Harry did smile then, and had to admit that he did have a point. He would never have found any of Voldemort's dark items without his friend's help.

"Alright," he finally admitted. "But I still insist on being the one to lead." At Ron's look, he quickly added, "I just don't want to risk anyone getting hurt, Ron. And don't worry, I'll be careful. After all, you'll be there to make sure I do."

Ron grinned. "Damn right I will."

"Okay, so…where's Umbridge's new home address?"

0000000000

**Cecil Court; 1030PM:**

It was half past ten, and Harry, Ron and a select group of three other Aurors were making their way across Cecil Court, near Trafalgar Square, to a vacant shop that had once sold rare and second-hand books. It had closed down during the war.

The owner had been a muggle, but had been one of those rare few who could at least sense that something was not right. Although he had known nothing about the wizarding world, its people or Voldemort, he could feel that something dark was coming, and he had closed up shop and moved away to parts unknown. The shop was still in his name, possibly because he might intend to some day return, since the war was now long since over.

Harry had been amazed when he learned what the shop had been. He thought Umbridge would at least try to get herself into a trendy and expensive hotel; one that was equipped to provide her with all the needless indulges she was used to. The thought of her staying in a vacant, old bookstore was almost laughable.

He and the other wizards had to use various magics to keep themselves concealed, as even at night the area was almost always populated. Tourists and locals, having a night out on the town, were almost constantly passing through there.

Harry almost wished he had brought his Invisibility Cloak with him. Not that he had any fear of muggles seeing them, as the average spell of concealment was more than enough to dull their senses. The fact, however, that Umbridge had been showing herself off in public proved that either she had lost whatever rational thought she had had left, or that she was planning something.

He was sure that, as far as magic went, he could handle himself against whatever Umbridge threw his way. She wasn't the greatest of witches, having proven that during her time as Hogwart's DADA teacher. He had thought at the time that she hadn't wanted to teach them practical spells because of her over-cautiousness, and that she'd been worried they were planning to raise an army for Dumbledore (which they hadn't _until_ she came along), but now he realised that the other reason may have been simply because she _couldn't_. Aside from typical and all-around common offensive and defensive spells, mostly those of a darker variety, she had possessed no real magical talent.

Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't get him with a surprise attack. She had done that to Magorian when she had used the rope conjuring spell on him. The Centaur leader had been so riled up by her calling him and his herd half-breeds and such, she had taken him completely by surprise. Harry had to make sure she couldn't pull the same trick twice.

"Ron?" he whispered to his friend. "You getting anything?"

Ron held out his wand, as though waving for something, muttering some words beneath his breath. After a few moments, he shook his head. "Can't tell," he replied. "Either nothing's there, or something has been put up to stop us from finding anything."

Harry swore. "Alright, put up some barriers. I don't wanna risk anything of this coming out on the Breakfast News tomorrow."

Ron wasted no time. "_Repello Muggletum!_" he recited, followed by the other Aurors following his example, casting the Muggle-Repelling Charm around the shop.

The moment it was cast, Harry led the way inside. "_Alohomora_," he said, pointing at the door with his wand, unlocking it instantly. Although he knew Umbridge was no great witch, he had expected the shop door to have at least some kind of curse upon it, to prevent intruders, or at least warn her of them. But so far, there was nothing to indicate a magical presense.

"Maybe she left?" one of the Aurors behind him suggested. "That would explain why she wasn't picky about showing herself in public. Because she was planning on leaving the country, or going to another hideout."

He frowned, but had to admit the wizard had a point.

"Maybe," he replied quietly, "but don't let your guard down until we know for definite."

They went all around the ground floor of the shop, but to no avail. All the shop was bare, as all it's merchandise had long since been removed, leaving behind empty stacks of shelves, and a few old signs saying 'End Of Clearance Sale'.

"Anything?" he said, but merely received a chorus of no's from his team.

"There's a door at the back here, sir," one of them called out quietly from across the room. "There's some stairs leading up. Shall I go?"

"Wait for us." Harry looked to the others. "Ron, you're with me. The rest of you stay here to keep guard. Wait till we return."

As they acknowledged him with a nod, he and Ron moved forward to join the other Auror at the back of the shop, waiting by a door hidden within the shadows. It had on it a Combination Muggle Lock, which had already been picked, and now stood open, revealing a flight of stairs leading up.

"Follow me," said Harry, and slowly began heading up, his wand at the stand by.

As his feet climbed each step, his teeth felt like they were chewing on tin foil with every loud creak of the stairs, which sounded louder than anything The Shrieking Shack had ever produced. He almost considered casting a Silencing Charm.

They eventually came to the top of the stairs, and took in their surroundings, seeing they were in what must have been an old office or storage room at one time. The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust, with the marks of old bits of furniture that had once sat on it, now since been removed, like a desk, some more shelves, and several discarded books. Then there were also the footprints…

Harry noticed these immediately; several of them that led to a single door at the end of the room. He signalled the others to follow, and tiptoed across.

Unsurprisingly, the floorboards gave off as many creaks as the stairs had done. He wondered whether this was why Umbridge had chosen this particular place as a hideout, since the loud creaks could give warning of an intruder, or if it had just been a lucky bonus.

The room had in it a single large window, which looked out onto the court outside, but which none of them had noticed before now. Most likely it had on it a spell that had prevented any of the light from within the room escaping outside, like a one-way mirror, similar to the Muggle-Repelling Charm.

He finally reached the door, but still heard no sounds from within. He waited one moment, and then signalled the others to get ready, and held his wand forward.

Slowly, he turned the knob, and inched the door open.

"_Confringo_."

Harry had less than a second, when he heard the word spoken in the other room, to react. Several things went through his mind when he heard it. First, he recognised Umbridge's voice anywhere. Second, he also recognised the word as the spell for the Blasting Curse, which caused targets to explode, like a bomb. Third…

[BOOM!]

Well, there would be plenty of time later to review what the third thing was.

Harry jumped to the side, waving his wand like a sharp whip, which caused Ron and the third Auror to swerve to the left of the room, landing with a thump against the wall. As they fell, the door was blasted off its hinges by a terrifying explosion, its sound echoing beyond the strain of their ears. If it were not for the Repelling Charm, the noise would have been heard all the way across the River Thames.

The sound had deafened Harry, filling his ears with nothing but white noise, as he valiantly struggled to his feet. He looked over, and saw to his relief that the others were alive and seemingly unhurt, save for their ears, like him, as they slowly stood up, and shook and tapped the sides of their heads in a vain effort to clear them.

The door lay discarded on the floor, and the frame from which it had been blasted from was now several inches wider, due to the blast. Large clouds of smoke floated out of the room, together with the sound of a roaring fire.

"Exstinguo!" recited Harry, as he pointed his wand through the doorway. Immediately, the fire within started to shrink and subside.

"Aqua Eructo!" called out Ron and the Auror, and jets of water sprung from the tips of their own wands, shooting forth into the room. The sound of hissing steam was heard from inside, as the water helped put out the fire.

Within a few moments, the fire was all gone, save for a few stray flames here and there, and the thick smoke that travelled in its wake.

"What the hell was that?!" the Auror said, coughing and waving his wand at the smoke. One of them had some skills in healing magic, and had already healed the other's ears.

"Blasting Curse," spluttered Harry, waving his own wand. "Someone's in there."

Ron grimaced. "If there was anyone in there, Harry, chances are they ain't now."

He paused for a moment, but then Harry continued with clearing the smoke out of the room, until finally it was safe to enter. When they did, the room was completely wasted, with charred remains of wooden furniture lying everywhere, burned ashes of paper floating around, and…

Harry stopped, and Ron hissed through his teeth in disgust, while the Auror just gasped in horror.

Lying in the centre of the room, charred and burned, were the skeletal remains of a former witch. There was no point in checking to see if they could help, as she was now beyond all hope.

"Is it…?" the Auror started to ask.

"Umbridge?" said Harry. "We can't know for certain, but I definitely heard her voice when she spoke the spell. Then again, it could have been someone who was in disguise."

A second later, the other Aurors came rushing up the stairs, their wands held out, and looking flustered.

"What happened?!" one of them asked urgently.

"Blasting Curse," repeated Harry. "We're not sure yet who by, as whoever it was is… Well, there's not a lot left to identify her with."

They looked past him into the room, and cringed at the sight of the charcoal skeleton.

"Call the Ministry," Harry then ordered. "Have them send their healers to examine the body. Tell them to use all spells to check every minor detail. I want it cross-examined right down to the cellular level if need be, but I must know for absolute certainty if this was Dolores Umbridge or not."

The Aurors nodded, and left the room, leaving Harry and Ron behind.

"You sure you heard Umbridge's voice?" asked Ron.

"Hers is one of the few voices I could never forget, Ron. But like I said, voices can be disguised just as easily as faces can be."

Ron frowned. "But if it was her, why on earth would she kill herself? She never struck me as the suicidal type before."

He shrugged. "Maybe it was an accident. We both know she was no expert when it came to magic, Ron. She might have intended to kill us with that spell, but misfired."

"I suppose, but… Hey, what's that?" He pointed across the burnt room, to the left side of the charred corpse.

When Harry turned to look, one thing immediately caught his eye. He hadn't noticed it before, what with all the smoke, but now it stood out as clear as day. The room was completely burned, what with charred wood and bones, so the one thing that stood out from anything else was an clean and un-burnt envelope, lying near the side of the room.

He carefully approached the paper, his wand out, and already reciting a spell that would detect any spells or curses around it, in case it had been booby-trapped for whenever someone touched it. After a couple of minutes, he looked back to his friend.

"It's been enchanted to resist corrosion, and repel things like dirt," he told him. "It could have been thrown into a dragon's fire, dipped into acid or thrown into Hagrid's compost heap, and it would still look as fresh as the day it had been printed."

Ron cocked an eyebrow. "_Someone_ clearly wanted to leave us a message."

Harry nodded, and continued checking the envelope for any other charms, but so far found nothing. Aside from the anti-corrosion spell, it was just an ordinary piece of paper.

Once satisfied with its safety, he undid the envelope, and pulled out the paper inside. He was half-expecting it to be a Howler, like the one Ron had received during his second year at Hogwarts from his mother, but it turned out to be nothing more than an ordinary piece of writing paper.

He pulled it out, and started reading: -

_To whom it may concern, _

_I know that many of you at the Ministry have long been wondering whether or not I have been the one behind the recent attacks made on a certain muggle girl by the name of Rebecca Leicester, so allow me to finally put your curiosity to rest. _

_Yes, it was indeed I who first informed those lowly creatures, the Centaurs, of the location of Miss Leicester, who told them where to find her, and again when she was hiding at the residence of one Arthur Weasley and his family. I even attempted to bring the girl to them myself when they proved too inept to perform so simple a task. _

_You are probably wondering why I did all this, why I would threaten the safety of a mere muggle, and incite war between the Centaurs and the Ministry, which I had dedicated my life to for so many years. The answer to that lies in the question itself. _

_I have always devoted myself to the pursuit of order, which was why I went to work for the Ministry straight after school, and where I had remained ever since. I gave each Minister my fullest, to ensure that order was maintained over the magical community and Great Britain. There were times when I had to do the unthinkable, but all that was necessary, for to do otherwise would have resulted in untold chaos across the country. I stood by what I said, and in return I was stripped of my position, my reputation, and then even my very freedom! _

_When I eventually escaped my lowly cell, I saw to my horror all that had occurred during my incarceration. I saw the once noble ideals of the Ministry fallen into ruins, with common muggle-borns, traitors and criminals taking up the positions normally reserved only for law biding and pure-blooded wizards and witches. Even the position of the Minister itself has been taken up by a former traitor to the Ministry! And the once frowned upon interaction between creatures such as the Centaurs and our children are now allowed by giving them teaching positions at our schools. _

_I see nothing left of the beloved country I swore to protect long ago, only chaos. And if people wish to live so, then so be it. Let chaos and disorder reign until your own houses fall upon your heads, whether it will be by war or your own foolishness! _

_I know I will be dead when you read this, as I never had any delusions of being able to escape detection by the Ministry for long. So I arranged to have those notice me among the muggle public, and in time follow me to this store where I have been hiding. I knew it would only be a matter of time before someone would come to find me, and when they did I would be sure to welcome him or her with my own death. _

_Let my passing serve as a reminder of the ideals we wizards and witches once prided ourselves on. Perhaps in the coming war, the war with the very creatures we allowed ourselves to join with, we will remember those ideals, of the old necessary laws to prevent interaction with such creatures; for to join with a weaker species is to allow ourselves the risk of growing weaker, and the likelier ease to be conquered. _

_Yours Sincerely, _

_Dolores Jane Umbridge_

_Former Senior Undersecretary to the Ministry of Magic_

_and Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission_

Harry read the letter several times, not quite believing all the racism and prejudice that was inside it. Even at the end, Umbridge still hadn't changed.

He handed the latter to Ron, who took his time reading it, too. When he was finished, he too looked at it with an air of disgust, and looked torn between folding the letter away, or incinerating it (which he would have done, too, if not for the protection spell on it).

"Gotta hand it to her," he muttered. "She never gave up on her principles, twisted as they were, even at the end."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But the worst thing is, she won."

Ron looked up.

"Even if she was behind all that's happened," he explained, "it's not gonna make a blind bit of difference. The Centaurs want Rebecca, nothing else. Even if we could have convinced them they'd been tricked and used by Umbridge, they most likely would have wanted her for revenge. And even then, they'd probably still want Rebecca."

He groaned pitifully. "I knew it was a long-shot, hoping to get Umbridge, to use her as a way to get through to the Centaurs, but it was all we had. It was the last chance we had to make peace, without giving Rebecca up, and now… Now, Umbridge is dead. And with her, we've lost our one foothold."

Ron stared sheepishly down at the floor. "Buck up, mate. For all we know, it may not be Umbridge there," he said, pointing to the skeleton. "Like you said, it could be someone doped up with Polyjuice."

"Who willingly killed themselves for Umbridge?" said Harry, looking at him sceptically. "Who on earth would be willing to do _that_?"

"The Imperius Curse! Umbridge may have had someone under it, to do her bidding. I mean, come on. Remember, neither of us believed Umbridge was the type of woman to take her own life. The idea she would do all this, and then sacrifice herself, is a bit hard to swallow."

"Maybe, but then again, the last time we saw Umbridge was before she lost everything, and got sent to Azkaban. We agreed that out of everyone, she would be the one who would no doubt have found her imprisonment the hardest to deal with."

"Perhaps, but either way, let's not lose our heads until after the healers have done their work. Wait till they can confirm who this was, and then we'll see."

Harry wanted to say more, but finally he just nodded, and looked back to the smoulding skeleton. 'Just keep hoping,' he thought, remembering some of his own words from long ago. The only problem was, hope was now starting to look a lot frailer.

**To Be Continued…**


	11. Chapter 10

**_CHAPTER 10_**

**_Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!_**

0000000000

**Safehouse: **

Rebecca brushed in the last spec of paint to finish the sky, and she was finished. She had made a stunning painting of the garden in the house where she was staying. The painting was pretty realistic, and was a burst of colour from all the sunshine and colourful flowers in bloom.

Normally, she would be proud of her work, especially with all the praises she was receiving from the Aurors stationed there for her protection, but considering that this was the third painting she had done of the garden, she could probably do it with her eyes closed. In truth, she was sick and tired of it, and longed to paint something different.

She had asked Firenze if he wouldn't mind posing for her, like he had done all those years ago in the forest, but he had politely refused, saying that he had to keep watch. Though she had the sneaking suspicion he had really refused because he hadn't actually enjoyed the posing the last time, and probably felt it wasn't dignified.

Part of her wished that it would rain, as at least then she could paint the garden in a different setting, instead of summer again. She knew she should be grateful, as the Aurors and Firenze hadn't exactly been happy with her spending so much time outside. Despite all the precautions they had taken, she knew they feared the Centaurs could arrive anytime, and they didn't want Rebecca out in the open, making herself an easy target for them.

'Maybe I could try painting something from memory,' she thought. 'Like Mount Rushmore or something?'

"_Rebecca?" _

She looked around in surprise, and saw Harry and Ron standing behind her, their faces grim.

'Oh no,' her emotions sinking further. 'Now what's happened?' Despite not having seen either of them in a couple of days, she had begun associating their visits with the coming of bad news.

"Harry? Ron?" she greeted them, standing up. "Something wrong?"

Harry sighed. "Yes and no," he said. "It's about Dolores Umbridge."

She raised an eyebrow. "You have some news about her?"

"Yeah. Since we last spoke to you, we've now confirmed that she was definitely the one working with the Centaurs and everything. She was also most likely the same witch who tried to abduct you back at the Ministry."

She sucked in her lower lip nervously. "You're certain?"

"Yeah, we… Well, that's the other bit of news we had to tell you."

As she looked curiously at them, Ron picked up where Harry had left off.

"You remember those calls we had, from people saying they had seen Umbridge in and around Trafalgar Square? Well, we checked it out, and it turned out they were right. Seems she had been staying in some vacant shop near there. She purposely strolled out in the open, to get someone from the Ministry to go after her, so me, Harry and a few others went to the shop she was hiding out in. But when we got there…" He paused.

"What?" she asked.

"Well, like I said, she had purposely been baiting us to go after her. When we got there, at the shop, she kinda…well…blew herself up."

"She WHAT?!" She stared at the two of them in shock.

"She exploded herself, using magic," explained Harry. "From what we can tell, the crazy woman must have lost her mind trying to get her revenge against us and the rest of the magical community. She somehow found out about you, and after learning where you were, must have told the Centaurs, thus inciting this war. It was all part of her plan to get revenge on everyone for her imprisonment."

"How do you know?"

He reached into his pocked, and pulled out some paper. "She wrote and told us." He handed it to her. "It was in the shop, where she had been staying."

Rebecca unfolded the letter. When she read what was on it, her eyes widened in shock and disgust. She knew, from what Harry and the others had told her about her, that she had been a twisted and prejudice woman, but even so…

"She was willing to start a war…a whole war…just because Centaurs and people were getting along, and muggle-born wizards were allowed to get high-class jobs?" she uttered in disbelief.

They nodded.

"Umbridge long ago made clear that she was willing to do anything to get what she wanted," said Ron. "Her time in prison obviously did not change that trait in her. In fact, if anything it seemed to strengthen it."

"But…are you positive that it's her, though? You said there were ways a person could disguise themselves."

"Polyjuice Potion, yeah." Harry shrugged. "That was our first thought, too. But we had all the Ministry Healers check the body. We even had Hermione concur with them, just to be absolutely sure. They tested it, but found no trace of Polyjuice whatsoever in it. And all the tests confirm that the body is that of Dolores Umbridge, nobody else." He looked at her almost sadly. "There's really no doubt about it, Rebecca. The body was definitely Umbridge, and she did do all those things."

"I just can't believe someone could be so vindictive, so heartless and cruel. Didn't she know that this war would hurt _everyone_, not just those she think wronged her?! What about her family and friends? Surely she must have known they'd be hurt, too?"

Ron scoffed. "Umbridge had no family. If she did, then none of them turned up at her trial, or even went to go visit her in prison. And as for friends; the only ones she would come close to consider that, were the ones who ended up in prison with her."

Harry looked at Rebecca, and seemed to see that she was having trouble digesting all this, which he could understand, as he had gone through the same thing himself once.

"When I first met Umbridge," he told her gently, "I thought for sure she had to be a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers. Because in many ways, she was what he would have considered perfect Death Eater material. But as it turned out, as foul as she was, she wasn't with him." He gave a comforting smile. "My Godfather once told me that the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters, which I have to admit until then I had always believed. The fact is, as horrible as it sounds, there will always be just as many bad people out there, as there are good people, and Umbridge was simply one of the bad."

"I just can't believe anyone would go so far as to start an entire war, risking millions of lives in the process. It's utterly ghastly!" she said in disgust.

Harry moaned. "Believe me, when the war with Voldemort started, I met many kinds of people I would never have believed existed. Many of them did things that even Umbridge would have probably got sick at…" he added quietly at the end, "…though not many I bet."

"What happens now?"

"We have to find a way to get you out of Britain," said Ron. "Back to your home in Italy, as it's the safest place. It's way too dangerous here now. But we'll have to do it the muggle way."

"Can't you just do that Apparating thing?"

Harry shook his head. "Apparition only works up to a certain range. It gets more difficult the longer the distance you have to travel, and only the most skilled wizards travel inter-continental, let alone international."

Rebecca nodded, a little disappointed, though at the same time relieved. She didn't really fancy travelling by that Apparition thing again, as it had made her sick the first time.

"What about Portkeys?" Ron suggested. "They can travel over long distances."

"We'd need to make one, and to do that we'll have to get in touch with the Ministry of Magic in Italy, and…"

"I'm sorry, what?!" She stared at them both, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Italy has a Ministry of Magic, too?"

Ron looked baffled at her, while Harry just smiled.

"Every country has its own Ministry," he explained. "Magic is really just as common as what you muggles do every day. They just keep themselves hidden because…well…"

"Muggle prejudice?" she guessed. At his uncomfortable look, she waved at him. "Don't be embarrassed. Firenze told me years ago about what muggles did to your people, as well as other magical creatures. It's sad, though hardly surprisingly, as let's face it, humanity has never had the best reputation at dealing with what they consider the unknown."

At Harry's nod, Ron added, "I'll tell Kingsley, and get him to make contact with the Minister in Italy."

"Terrific," Harry muttered. "Knowing all politicians, they'll probably take ages just to set a meeting to discuss the thing."

Ron coughed loudly into his hand, and made side-glances between him and Rebecca. Harry didn't realise what was wrong with him until he finally realised.

"Aw hell!" he said, looking sheepishly at her. "I'm sorry, Rebecca. I didn't mean…" He had forgotten that her father was a politician.

She smiled. "It's alright. I've heard all the old jokes before, growing up. Besides, you're probably right." She then looked serious. "But what are we going to do?"

"Just what we said, contact the Ministry in Italy, and hope they allow us the rights to make a Portkey to there."

"Why wouldn't they?"

Harry scratched his chin nervously. "News of the Centaurs' uprising has been making news all across the magical communities in other countries. If we were to send you back to Italy, there is the chance, however small, that if the Centaurs were to find out, they might…" He paused, but he didn't need to finish, as Rebecca could guess.

"The Centaurs might decide to follow me there, and in turn bring all the trouble that you're facing here, to Italy." A terrifying vision of Florence in flames, with people screaming, and armed soldiers, muggles and wizards alike, fighting Centaurs, filled her mind.

"You can't send me back home then," she said blankly. "Not when it might put peoples' lives at risk."

"It would be the same type of risk even if you were to stay here, Rebecca," said Ron. "But at least in Italy, you'd be farther away from the trouble."

"While you and everyone else would be here dealing with it!" she snapped, and then immediately hushed up, looking distressed. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Harry assured her. "But your safety is our number one priority, Rebecca. You know what'll happen if the Centaurs get hold of you."

"And I know what will happen if they don't," she countered. "It's already turned to war, and the only reason it hasn't escalated is because they haven't found me yet, and no one has taken up arms."

"Which will never happen," Harry promised her. "No one in the magical world wants this war, and all Aurors have the strictest orders not to attack them on sight. And I'm sure deep down the Centaurs don't want this war either. They're just proud and stubborn, and don't like to admit when they're wrong."

"I know that all too well, Harry, as I told you once. I also told you they'd never quit either." She turned around, looking out across the garden.

A few moments later, she heard the clip clopping of what sounded like a horse's hooves coming up the garden path. She didn't bother turning around.

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley," Firenze's voice said. "Would you please give us a few minutes alone?"

She listened to the pattering of the two wizard's footsteps, as they walked away, giving them their privacy.

"I know what you're going to say, Firenze," she told him. "We've been here before, remember? I know full well what your herd will do to me when they catch me, what they have planned, and what the rest of my life will probably entail."

"Then there's little point in me saying it all again, is there?"

There was a long silence, in which Rebecca stared at the garden, while Firenze looked straight at her.

"I assume you heard everything just now?" she asked eventually, though it was a theoretical question, as she knew one of a Centaur's many traits was their excellent hearing.

"Yes."

"Then you know what has to happen."

"No, only what you _choose_ to happen."

"What choice is there, Firenze?!" She looked at him, exasperated. "Your race will never give up on me, and unless I give in, it'll mean total war and chaos around Britain!"

"It will mean that anyway, even if you do give yourself in. Harry Potter knows only too well the meaning of self-sacrifice, and he would never allow anyone else to go through with it if it could be avoided."

She snorted, ignoring the nagging question she had of what self-sacrifice Harry had gone through. "It's my life, and I can choose what I can do with it."

"Even without Harry Potter's opinion in the matter, all those in the Ministry would not willing stand by and allow an innocent like you be taken by force. They would do all in their power to retrieve you."

"Even sacrifice their own country!" she cried out.

He sighed. "This isn't just about you, Rebecca. Many innocent lives were lost during the war, and the Ministry is filled with those whose good friends, family and allies were among those lost. They are not willing to do nothing, and allow another family to lose a loved one. Not when there's still something they can do about it."

Rebecca pouted in frustration, turning around to look at some of the garden's flowers again. "This isn't right, Firenze," she said quietly. "I never wanted anyone, let alone a whole country, to fight over me."

"That's something else you share with Harry Potter." He added when she turned to look back at him. "During the early years before and during the war, Harry Potter had many of his friends and allies who willingly risked, and even sacrifice, their lives for him. He carries that burden to this day, but in the end it was their free choice. They knew the risks of their decision, but cared enough for him to take them."

"But they don't even know me."

"They know the fear of being hunted and threatened, and they understand the pain of losing people they care about. They do not want your family to go through the same thing many of them did, and for you to lose your freedom, which is what they all fought for in the first place. If they were to simply allow my herd to take you, then everything they fought for would have been meaningless. For true freedom means nothing unless it is shared by all."

Her lower lip trembled. "I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me, Firenze."

He stepped up to her. "I know. But every life is precious, my Rebecca, including yours. My herd, alas, has forgotten that, which is something your race has over us."

A tear escaped her eyes, and she felt Firenze move his hand up to her cheek, as he gently wiped it off. All that did, however, was move her to allow more tears to shed.

Firenze embraced her then, enfolding his strong arms around her. It was the first time he had done this in weeks, and she had to admit that she had missed it. She had almost forgotten the feel of the muscles in his arms, and the soft touch of his hair that covered his body.

He gently caressed her back with his one hand, while his other moved up to her cheek, tilting her head up to his. As he looked down on her with those striking blue eyes of his, he started to lower his head down, his lips moving to hers…

"Wait!" she yelped, pushing back from him in an instant.

"What is it?" he asked, staring at her in concern.

'Okay, that's it,' she thought. 'No more stalling. There's no one here besides us, and it's been weeks now. It's not fair to him.' She took a deep breath, and then said out loud, "Firenze, there's something I need to tell you."

He looked at her silently, and then backed up to give her some space. "What is it?" he asked.

She looked hard at him, and then took a deep breath. "Firenze, I'm sorry, but…I've mistreated you."

He gave a blank look. "What do you mean? When have you ever mistreated me?"

'Since several weeks ago,' she said to herself. "By not telling you the truth," she explained, and looked at him sadly. "Firenze, when you and I first got back together, I… Well, you said it yourself, remember? When we got together, it awakened some of the old feelings we had years ago, and…well…it got me confused."

"How do you mean?" Firenze's voice was not threatening, angry or accusing, yet it made Rebecca feel anxious all the same.

"What I mean is…" She sighed miserably. "Firenze, during those last few days we were together, all those years ago, you made me feel something for you I hadn't ever felt for a guy before. Maybe if things had turned out differently, we could have even become a couple. But as you know, they didn't. I ended up leaving, and I thought for certain I would never see you again..." She paused for a second. "So I got on with my life, lived it to the fullest, like you told me, and…"

Firenze said nothing, and just continued watching her, waiting.

She opened and shut her mouth like a goldfish, desperately searching for the right words to speak, but it seemed fate was being cruel to her today. 'Or giving me what I no less deserve,' she thought dis-heartedly.

"While I was in Italy," she began anew. "…When I was working at the museums, I…I met someone."

Still Firenze made no move, and said nothing.

"His name is Antonio," she explained. "Antonio De Santis. He works at the museum, restoring faded artworks. That's how we met. We've been seeing each other now for over a year, and…just before I left Italy, to come home, he… We're engaged!"

She knew she shouldn't have said that last part so suddenly, but she had been so tongue-tied, it had just burst from her. She was almost expecting Firenze to start roaring in anger, maybe kick his legs out from under him in a frenzy, or at least start shouting at her. But instead, all he did was stay standing where he was, staring at her with those heart-wrenching eyes of his, his face betraying no signs of emotion.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he finally spoke.

"I tried." She felt like wailing, as what she was saying was so pathetic. It sounded like something she would have said when she was still in middle school. "But…when I saw you again after so long, I felt some of the old feelings rise up in me again. I got confused, feeling as I did when I was last with you, and…what with your herd after me and everything, I liked being with you, like I did before. You are and have always been a great source of comfort to me, Firenze. I was overwhelmed, and I guess I just mistook the past for the present, confusing the feelings that I used to have for you, with the ones that I now have."

"But those feelings of confusion didn't last, did they," he said.

"No," she admitted guiltily. "After you kissed me, I realised almost immediately that we no longer had what we used to. That moment passed us by long ago. I just hadn't realised it until then."

"So why didn't you tell me then? Why wait until now?"

"I've been trying." She felt like sobbing. "But I was so scared of how you might react. I kept wimping out every time I got close to telling you. And each time after I finally gathered enough bravery to speak to you, something would happen, like the Centaurs attacking, one of the Aurors calling you over, or you being on watch-duty. I… " She groaned. "It just…never seemed to be the right time."

She kept silent then, and just stayed looking at the ground, not daring to raise her eyes to Firenze's. Never before had she felt so ashamed, guilty and low. Firenze was her one greatest friend, ally and confidante, and she had betrayed him in the most despicable of ways.

When a full five minutes had passed, and still no words were spoken, she heard Firenze turn around and start walking away from her.

"Firenze!" she said, finally looking up in distress. He paused where he was, but did not turn around to look at her. "I'm… I'm sorry. Really I am. I know I should have told you straight away, but…I didn't know what else to do."

When he still made no move to speak or even look at her, she continued.

"I wish I could take it all back, do it all different," she said, feeling like one of those actors on those stupid soap operas. She had always thought the lines they used were ridiculous, and now here she was using them herself. "But I can't. I wish I could, but… I'm just… I'm so sorry."

Another few moments passed, and then Firenze just continued on his way out the garden, not even stopping to look back at her.

Rebecca slid to the ground, as tears starting to pour down her face.

0000000000

**Two Days Later; 0615AM: **

The next two days were the longest of Rebecca's life. Firenze had not spoken to her at all since her confession, not that she could blame him for that, and since all the Aurors were busy with their own watch-duties, and Harry and his friends were still busy trying to keep a lid on all the Centaur sightings in London, she had had no one to talk to.

The Centaur sightings were becoming more and more frequent. A lot of the wizards and witches were all looking worn and tired, having to be out at all hours, to keep the Centaur's existence a secret from the muggles. Despite their obvious tiredness, a lot of them seemed sure they could handle it.

That was one thing that Rebecca had noticed about most of the wizards and witches in the Ministry…a lot of them were mostly deluded. They were proud, stubborn, and even a few of them really arrogant. They seemed positive that they could handle things. She didn't know whether it was their arrogance talking, or possibly their fear that another war might soon be on the horizon.

Unfortunately, with what Harry and Ron had told her, it didn't sound like the rest of the magical community would have long to wait to see if war with the Centaurs would be coming. She was still surprised that it hadn't already. She had thought for sure, after that dumb kid Imogen had blasted them at the Burrow, the Centaurs would retaliate.

Rebecca moaned slightly, as she walked downstairs to the kitchen. She normally wouldn't get up this early, but she was hoping to bump into Firenze before he went to sleep for the morning. Centaurs had very odd hours, as they usually preferred to stay up all night watching the skies. However, they obviously had to sleep sometimes, and had to be up at least some time during the day, to hunt the typical animals that lived in the forest, and were easier to catch during daybreak.

Firenze was no different from the rest of his herd, as he kept watch during the night, yet only slept a quarter of the day, got up, patrolled again for a bit, and then went back to sleep for another few hours, before getting back up again for the night. He used to spend a lot of that time with her, to talk, with the exception of the last two days.

She made it to the kitchen, and looked outside the window. She soon spotted one of the Aurors idly walking through the garden, keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary, but there was no sign of Firenze yet again.

"_Good morning?"_ a voice asked, making her jump.

"Oh!" she gasped, and turned around to see Mr. Grimm standing at the hallway entrance. "I didn't see you there."

"Just came in from the living room," he said, yawning. "Got off shift three hours ago. Spent them catching up on a few Zs in that armchair in there."

"Oh, you could have had one of the spare rooms surely?" she said, looking at him in concern.

"Nah," he waved his hand at her. "Prefer the chair. More comfortable, and it's by the window, where I can spot danger more quicker if it's coming."

'Charmingly delightful as always,' she thought bemusedly.

"Has Firenze gone to sleep yet?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "He went out a little before dawn."

She looked at him, startled. "Went out? Where?"

He shrugged. "Beats me. There's been some more sightings of Centaurs near here, so he said he was gonna go and check them out. Don't worry, though, as he knows how to stay out of sight. Mr. Potter made sure of that."

As well as possessing the same sort of magic that the rest of his herd used, to remain hidden in the muggle world, Harry had also given Firenze some upgraded spells and charms, to aid in his concealment. The Ministry didn't want to take any chances with him being spotted as well.

She sighed sadly, and replied, "Thank you."

He looked at her oddly. "You and he have a tiff or something?"

"Something like that, yes. I was hoping to have a chat with him, and sort it out. But I think he's avoiding me."

He scoffed. "Ruddy Centaur never avoids anything. Rarely even takes a break. Tell you what, if we had more Aurors like him, I could safely retire. Though I doubt there's any chance of that anytime soon."

"Why? Has something else happened?" She looked at him in alarm.

"Just the usual, more Centaurs appearing here and there. I know those nags have their own means of staying hidden, and they have a little bit of magic of their own. But how the devil they manage to travel all the way around Britain, without even a wizard spotting them, I'll be damned if I know."

She frowned at his words, wondering the same. Although she didn't know exactly where Hogwarts was, she knew it was a fair way from London. And since she couldn't imagine the Centaurs taking a bus or train, they had to have started travelling from their home by hoof a long time before getting to the city. Plus, there was the question of how they had managed to get to the Burrow so fast? Even if they were told right after she had first got there, it still should have taken them at least a day to get from London to Devon, assuming they didn't have to keep stopping to hide themselves.

Then again, she had only seen Aonghus in London, while Magorian, Ronan and Adair had been at the Burrow. Perhaps the herd had split up, spreading over the country to get a better chance at catching her.

"I don't suppose you know how fast Centaurs run, do you?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "They run a little bit faster than the Kentucky Derby racehorses, from what I've been told, but not a great deal."

"What about communication?" she asked, suddenly realising something. "Assuming this Umbridge told them where I was, how would she tell them, and how they would let the rest of their herd know?"

Again he shrugged. "Umbridge was a witch, so she could tell them by any number of magical ways. As for the Centaurs, apparently they send messages the same way that we wizards do, with birds. Only we use owls, while the Centaurs use hawks that they've trained."

"Hawks?" she said in surprise. "I don't remember ever seeing any at their home when I was there."

"Firenze says they let the hawks fly free, as the Centaurs aren't big on keeping animals captive."

'Don't seem to have a problem doing it to humans, though,' she thought.

"The only time when the Centaurs use them is when they need them, which isn't that often, since their herd rarely leaves the forest. From what Firenze says, they only ever used them once in a while to communicate with the other Centaur herds around the country. Since they started going after you, though, the hawks must be having a real workout, flying to and from each of the Centaurs in the herd."

"Oh…nice to know the hunt for me is giving the birds something to do at least," she muttered sarcastically, gaining a laugh from him.

At that moment, a loud crack of a whip-like sound aired in the room, and Harry appeared before them, looking out of breath.

"Hey?" he said, indicating Grimm to stand down, and waving hello at Rebecca.

"Hey, you got any news?" she asked.

"Nothing good I'm afraid," he replied, looking downtrodden. "We've contacted the Ministry of Magic in Italy, but so far it's going like we'd expected. The Minister there says he sympathises, but basically he's worried that granting asylum for you might entice the Centaurs to go over there, and cause trouble."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. 'Typical politician,' she thought. 'Sorry, dad.'

"Kingsley is trying to come to an agreement, but so far it's looking less and less likely," said Harry, walking over to the breakfast bar, and checking outside the window. "Looks like every country in the world knows about the Centaur situation, and are trying their best to distance themselves from Britain all they can."

"Same as they did during the war," Grimm snorted, seemingly in disgust. "Bunch of pansies."

Harry spared him a glance, and Rebecca couldn't help but notice him give a slight nod of his head, as though agreeing with him.

"We can only stay here a couple more days," he added. "The owners will be back by the weekend, and we've had reports of Centaurs searching near here. So we need to move you to a new safehouse."

"Where will that one be this time?" she asked in a monotone voice.

"Don't know yet," he replied in a regretful tone. "But we've already got several possibilities lined up, so don't worry."

She gave him a small smile, but said nothing.

"Where's Firenze?" he suddenly asked.

Luckily, Grimm answered for her. "He heard about the Centaurs getting closer here, so he went out to investigate. Don't worry, he's using the illusion charms you gave him. Really dedicated protector he is, that nag. Though I can't say I admire him for his choice of bedding."

Firenze preferred to remain and sleep outside, and had made a reasonably comfortable spot, for himself, near a small orchard of apple trees, which provided some cover when it rained, and some rosebushes.

"Fine, I'll talk to him later. I'll arrange the new safehouse with Ron, and get back to you once we've got somewhere set up. Oh, and, Grimm, I'll be sending some replacement Aurors to take over. It looks like we're going to need you on the south side. Centaurs have been popping up over there."

Grimm gave something that sounded like a cross between a snort and a shout of glee. "Finally! A chance to stretch my wand-arm at last."

Harry nodded. "I'll be sending two replacements over. Imogen Griffin and Meredith Pan."

"Huh?!" Rebecca looked up in surprise. "Pan and Griffin?"

He nodded. "Since it was Umbridge who was the one behind your attacks and everything, they've been cleared of all charges. They're also two of the only witches available to help guard you."

"As long as they don't go blowing anything up again," she said, grumbling.

"I've spoken with Imogen about that," he said assuredly. "She admits she overreacted…"

"Overreacted?"

"She hasn't had a lot of experience out in the field, don't forget. She panicked. But she's been made aware of the consequences, should she attempt such a spell again, risking war in the process. And she's to report to Miss Pan, who is to be in charge of her."

"The squealer?" She looked unsure at him.

"She's a touch panicky, too, I admit, but she's at least been trained to think first and shoot later."

She frowned, but finally nodded. She knew it was unfair to keep blaming them for something they were not guilty of. The only person at fault was Umbridge, and she was now gone for good.

"I'll be sending them over in an hour from now. Ron and I should have something set for you by the end of today. Keep your chin up till then. And under no circumstances should you leave this house unless me, Firenze or Ron are with you. No one else, okay?"

She half-smiled, nodded, and then watched him as he Apparated away.

0000000000

**One Hour Later:**

Rebecca waited, as the kettle came to a boil. She didn't know if Meredith and Imogen had had breakfast yet, but she had put the kettle on in case they would like a cup of tea when they arrived.

She had just poured the hot water into the teapot (she preferred using that instead of just pouring straight from the kettle), when she heard a knock coming from the front door in the hall.

"Stay there!" Grimm whispered to her urgently from the other room. He already had his wand out, and was heading toward the hall. Luckily, the front door was solid oak, and had a peephole, which was possibly another reason why this house was chosen to hide in.

She waited in the kitchen for a few moments, silently holding her breath, as though any moment the sounds of the front door being shattered would be heard, followed by hooves galloping through the house.

"It's okay, it's them!" Grimm's voice called out to her.

She heaved a sigh of relief, and quickly finished the tea tray, adding two small plates of cakes and cucumber sandwiches. She also made sure there was plenty of sugar, as she remembered Imogen liked to have plenty with her tea.

When she walked into the living room, she found everyone waiting for her. Imogen was there, looking as dark and depressed as ever, and Meredith with that all-too-familiar fake smile once more plastered upon her face. It seemed entirely alien on her, which was probably why it never lasted there for long.

'I wonder if she sleeps with a coat hanger in her mouth, to get it like that?' thought Rebecca, but smiled and greeted them warmly. "Hello, Miss Pan, Miss Griffin. Wonderful to see you both again."

Imogen, of course, remained quiet and emotionless, giving her a slight nod as her acknowledgement. Meredith didn't lose her smile, and said "Hello," back to her.

"Well, that's it for me," said Grimm, gathering his wand and cloak. "I better get to the Ministry, and see what they need me for. Say ta-ra to Firenze for me."

Before Rebecca could say "Sure," or "Goodbye", he had already gone, Apparating into thin air. The moment he'd gone, Meredith's smile had dropped from her face, and she took her tea from Rebecca.

"Thank you," she said, and took a sip from her cup. "I trust you've been made comfortable here?"

"As well as can be expected," she replied.

"Good-good," she said, taking another sip. "I only hope you've had a better time than we've had these past few weeks. Under surveillance they've had us, since that terrible business at the Burrow. They actually accused us of being in league with the Centaurs! As if we'd help start a war that could…"

"Now, now, Miss Pan," interrupted Imogen. "They didn't actually accuse us of anything. They just asked us some questions, that's all."

"Followed by taking us off duty, and having a number of Ministry employees keep tabs on us," she added shrilly. "Only for it to turn out to be Dolores Umbridge all along. Can you believe that? After all this time, she had been hiding in plain sight from the Ministry."

"Did you know her?" asked Rebecca.

"Everyone who ever worked at the Ministry knew of Dolores Jane Umbridge, my dear. Whether it was personally, or merely in passing, there wasn't a single Ministry employee who didn't cross paths with her at least once a day. She was the Senior Undersecretary after all. Seemed like quite a delightful woman…" She paused. "…That is, I _thought_ she was, until the war that is. Still can't believe what she did to all those poor people. She always seemed like such a sweet woman."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Imogen said quietly, stirring her tea.

Over the next couple of hours, they talked idly over the most mundane of things, which even a muggle would find boring, from the weather to everyone's health, taking time out to occasionally check the house perimeter.

Rebecca had made one or two attempts to ask more interesting questions, if only to relieve her boredom, like enquiring about Umbridge from Meredith. But, apparently, she had no interest in raking up anything from the past, especially about a "despicable and loathsome woman like Dolores Umbridge," as Meredith put it.

Imogen remained as quiet as always, offering only the odd "Mm-hmm", "How interesting", and "May I have some more tea please".

The only other mildly interesting part of their conversation was near the beginning when Meredith had nervously asked if Firenze was there. Rebecca had looked on in amusement, at the way she had kept sneaking glances at the windows to the garden, as though expecting to see Firenze's tail there. Obviously, she hadn't forgotten her last comical meeting with the Centaur.

Inwardly, Rebecca longed for Firenze to return, as she was still most anxious to speak with him. Not only in the hopes of salvaging their friendship, but also to get away from these two incredibly boring witches.

By the time the clocks struck 0900 in the morning, she was wishing she was still talking with them about their boring topics. For less than one minute before the clocks in the house started chiming, Meredith had been about to start talking about yet another new subject (what it was, Rebecca never found out), when a loud crash came from the front of the house.

"Wha…?" Rebecca started to ask, but Meredith was already up with her wand.

"Stay down!" she ordered, and hurried to the front window, looking out. Apparently, the Ministry had given her some re-training in dealing with aggressive situations.

Another crash sounded, but this one had come from the back of the house this time. Imogen grabbed Rebecca, practically dragging her to the kitchen, where there were fewer windows, but from where she could still look out onto the garden.

Outside, there were five Centaurs, all of which were fighting the spells from the other Auror who had been guarding the rear of the house. Unfortunately, the poor man didn't last long. He couldn't, what with only one of him, and so many of them. One of the Centaurs had galloped up to him while he was restraining the other four, and knocked him out with a hard blow to the head. The moment he was down, they immediately started heading towards the house.

There were more crashes then, again coming from the front, and Meredith's high-strung voice yelled out, "Call for help!" Her voice was barely audible, though, because of the loud roaring sound of several angry males, the twang of bows, and the sound of what must have been arrows hitting the walls and doors.

"We need to get out of here," said Imogen, as she reached into her robe.

Rebecca could only stutter. "B-b-but Harry said I-I-I shouldn't l-l-leave…"

"I'm pretty sure this counts as special circumstances!" she replied, a little harshly compared to her usual monotone voice.

One of the windows shattered, and Rebecca could only nod in agreement, fear having consumed her.

As Imogen fumbled around in her robe, looking for whatever it was she needed, Rebecca could only stare at the chaos around her; the house shook like it was in the middle of an earthquake. This all reminded her of the Burrow, and…

Suddenly, something clicked inside her head. This was the second time that the Centaurs had found and attacked the place where she had been staying, while she had been under the protection of these two particular witches, Imogen and Meredith.

But Harry had assured her that that Umbridge woman had been the one responsible for the attacks and everything. They had found undeniable proof that she was the one. Why would Imogen or Meredith…? Unless it wasn't Imogen or Meredith!

She suddenly remembered the woman, Vanessa Darnell, who had tried to abduct her from the Ministry. Everyone all assumed that she had to have been Umbridge in disguise, but what if she hadn't been? What if she had been the real Vanessa Darnell all along, working together with Umbridge?

Fear, paranoia and panic were starting to take her over, as Rebecca realised she was trapped now in a house with two witches, who might actually be trying to get her for the Centaurs.

'But if that's true, then why haven't they just handed me over to them?' she thought, as she realised that with the other Auror unconscious (or at least she hoped he was just unconscious), the witches could simply hand her over to the Centaurs, and be done with it.

The answer came to her in an instant. 'Because only one of them is working with the Centaurs, and doesn't want to reveal herself to the other!'

The loud neighing of the Centaurs came from the back of the house, and Rebecca shrieked as she heard the shelves in the kitchen being banged about, as one of the herd kicked the outside wall.

"Keep calm!" said Imogen, though her own voice sounded far from it. She continued searching through her pockets, and Rebecca couldn't help but wonder what it was she was looking for, and how small it could be, considering the size of the girl's pockets.

Her fear and impatience almost got the better of her, and she was about to snap at Imogen, asking her what it was she was after, when she heard a clatter come from inside the girl's one pocket. It almost sounded like…a pile of books falling over?

"What the…?"

"Darn it!" said Imogen, and then pulled her wand out of her other pocket. As she did, a tiny flash of light sparkled off it, briefly dazzling Rebecca.

"What's going…?!" she started to say, but before she could finish, she stopped and watched as Imogen pointed her wand into her other pocket, and recited, "Accio!" A second later, what looked like a common shoebox, and which looked way too big and bulky to fit into her robe, seemed to spring up from her pocket and into her hand. However, that was not what had caused her to pause.

That tiny flash of light, which had come from Imogen's wand…she had seen it somewhere before! It was the kind of light seen when reflected off the surface of something shiny, like glass or crystal. She racked her mind trying to remember where she had seen it, but at the moment she had no time left to ponder.

"Hurry!" said Imogen, almost frantically. "Touch this!"

She opened the box, to reveal unsurprisingly a shoe inside, though it was definitely not brand new. It looked like the kind of shoe one would see at a garbage dump, or at the bottom of a river.

Rebecca spared the old shoe a glance, and then stared hard at her. "_Not even_ _if you paid me_," she stated.

"Just touch it, _now_!"

"Not in a million years! That thing's disgusting."

That was true, as the shoe had definitely seen better days, but that wasn't the only reason she was refusing to touch it. For all she knew, this girl could be working with the Centaurs, and she couldn't chance that.

'But what if it's not her?' she thought. 'It could easily be Meredith, as she's never been at ease around Firenze.'

She frowned, as she thought desperately to try and figure out a course of action. Normally, the safest course would be to remain there until Harry, Ron or Firenze returned, but the Centaurs outside were making that difficult.

"I have to stay here," she said finally. "Harry told me to remain here, no matter what."

The sound of the backdoor splintering open was heard, and Rebecca jumped in petrified fear.

"We have no time for this!" hissed Imogen. "Do you want to stay here and risk being captured by those half-breeds?!"

"No, but I…"

"Stupefy!" Imogen suddenly cried out, and Rebecca had just a second to watch as a jet of scarlet light shot out from the tip of Imogen's wand, and struck her in her chest, before she mercifully lost consciousness.

Her final thoughts before she went under were, 'Okay, definitely _not_ Meredith.'

0000000000

Rebecca moaned, as she slowly came to. Her head ached like in the aftermath of a hangover, yet she clearly remembered not having a single drink.

"_Feeling better, dear?"_ a voice said from above her.

She opened her eyes, and looked up to see Imogen staring down on her, a smile, which looked as equally fake as Meredith's, on her face.

"My apologies for the Stunning Spell, dear, but you really were most uncooperative."

She groaned, as she tried to get up, but found her arms and legs bound. "Huh?"

"Oh yes, sorry about that. But I couldn't very well risk you getting up and running away from me now, could I?" said Imogen, as she walked uncaring around her.

Rebecca looked around herself, and found that the two of them were by the edge of what looked like a vast lake. There appeared to be some lights glowing in the distance across the lake, but they were too dim for her to make out. The lake was huge and black, no doubt due to it being nighttime.

'Nighttime?! Just how long have I been unconscious?'

As she looked around more carefully, she found nothing but trees on all sides, indicating they were in a forest somewhere. That alone told her where she was, as there was only one forest she could think of where this girl could possibly want to take her.

"We're in The Forbidden Forest, aren't we," she stated calmly, far more calmer than she felt.

"Very clever, Miss Leicester!" said Imogen brightly. She seemed to have gained more personality since Rebecca had been out. She had lost her gloomy attitude, and her words were louder and brighter, like her friend Chloe.

"You've been working with the Centaurs all this time," she said accusingly, glaring at the younger girl with venomous eyes.

Imogen lost a little of her cheery attitude, and stared down at her. "Not by choice, you must understand. I only did what I had to do. Things to set right, after all."

"Things?! What things? You, your friend Vanessa Darnell from the Ministry, that Umbridge woman, and your four-legged buddies have been chasing me for weeks now!"

"Those half-breeds are most certainly NOT my friends!" the girl suddenly shrieked, glaring straight down at her, making Rebecca cringe slightly. There was something demented about the way Imogen was looking at her.

"They are nothing but a bunch of filthy half-breeds!" she continued, almost hysterically. "I only used them because I had no other course left open to me! The only course that the Ministry left for me!"

Rebecca didn't like the way Imogen was waving her wand about, particularly when she was still so close to her. After a while, though, she seemed to calm down, as she took in deep breaths.

"But…let's not talk about that now. After all, I wouldn't want them to hear me disrespecting them, not when I'm supposed to be their friend." Her attitude was once more a sickly sweet overtone, like she was talking to an infant.

"Why are we here, Imogen?" Rebecca asked fearfully.

"All in good time, my dear, all in good time," Imogen said, waving her off. "But first, I think introductions should be made. For even though you and I have spent quite a bit of time together, we have never been officially introduced."

"What do you mean?" She looked at her as if she had gone mad, which was a distinct possibility, judging by her current actions. "We have been introduced. _Ages_ ago."

"No, no, my dear," she replied, that ever wide smile on her face. "You only know the name of the face that I now wear, but not my true one."

"What? What are you talking about?!"

Imogen made a short bow before her, as though she were at a debut. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Leicester. My name is…Dolores Jane Umbridge."

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
